


Tampa 99

by iamavacado



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders
Genre: Adrien - Freeform, Alcohol, Anger, Blacking Out, Blood, Car Chases, Choking, Cops, Death Threats, Detectives, Ex Boyfriend, Face Punching, Gen, Graphic Descriptions of blood, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Hitting, Hospital, IV bag, Injury, Kidnapping, Knives, Logan Holmes, M/M, Mild Blood, Mild Language, Nightmares, Panic, Panic Attack, Patton Bittender, Pins, Prinxiety - Freeform, Punching, Remi Benson, Roman Peralta, Sedation, Shooting, Shooting Guns, Tears, Threatening, Threats of Death, Threats of Violence, Virgil Knightly, ambulance, description of flashing lights, description of getting shot, description of hospital, disassocating, drinking alcohol, faded hearing, gunshot wound, hysterical, shootout, standoff - Freeform, wound
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2019-08-19 02:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16525877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamavacado/pseuds/iamavacado
Summary: Virgil Knightly is the sergeant of Tampa's 99th precinct, and the only place he really feels in control is on the field. His boyfriend, Roman Peralta, might have a past he prefers not to mention.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe there's only gonna be one chapter of this, or maybe there's gonna be more. We'll see!

The city whizzed past him in blurred colors as Virgil urged the gas pedal closer and closer to the floor. His hands were cemented to the wheel, swerving in and out of traffic lanes regardless of which way the cars were going, heart pummeling his sternum to pieces. The blue car in front of him would dart from lane to lane so fast it seemed that it was teleporting. Did that car even own breaks?

An oblivious pedestrian stepped onto a crosswalk, but jumped back at the sound of the blaring police siren piercing the air. They jumped back just before Virgil rammed them. “Sorry!” he yelled, though they couldn’t hear him.

The blue car ran yet another red light, and all Virgil could do was grit his teeth and follow, hoping there wasn’t a trucker passing through the intersection. Even though it seemed impossible, the car then sped up. Virgil started to lose sight of it.

“Come on,” he said with a frustrated growl. Glancing at his speed, which was topping 90, he pushed even harder against the gas. The engine roared louder in obedience, and the car lurched forward with more intense speed. The blue car came back in his sight. Traffic was starting to thin, and Virgil knew that they’d be hitting the back roads soon enough. At that point, there would be no pedestrians to injure, so he didn’t feel as nervous going this fast as he would be on busier streets.

“Holmes!” he shouted into his radio. "He’s heading towards Washtenaw and we’re about to hit dirt! Isn’t there an intersection right before there? He might turn.”

The static was the only thing that answered him before Logan’s voice broke through the sound. “I’ll cut him off. Over,” he said. The radio went dead.

“Peralta?” 

Roman cut through the static this time. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? Spike strips, idiot!” 

“Already down, idiot.” The radio cut out. Virgil would have rolled his eyes, but if he took them off the road for even a moment, they’d both end up in a ditch.

“Bittender, how’s the victim?”

“I’m with her,” said Patton. “She’s bleeding. EMT closing in.”

“Keep me updated.”

“Will do.”

In the distance, Virgil could see the dirt road approaching. The only two cars on the road were him and the blue car, speeding past houses so quickly that it would be easy to imagine that they weren’t even there. He slammed the gas pedal all the way to the floor, and it gave the car the final push it needed to close in on the blue car. The perp inside peeked in the rearview mirror, and Virgil smirked when he saw the look on his face.

“Pat! I can see his plates! You hear me?” Virgil yelled into his radio.

“Go.”

“7, Tango, 3, 2, Whiskey, 9, Foxtrot. Run it now.”

There was only a brief moment of pattering static before Patton replied, “Belongs to a 69 year old woman named Dorene Hardesty.”

“Well,” Virgil mumbled, “That’s one spry old lady now isn’t it?”

As they neared the road, the blue car did indeed look as if it were going to turn, but Logan's car rushing up the street and stopping sideways to block him made that impossible. So he kept straight, and Virgil held his breath as they crossed the border.

The two hit the dirt road in a flurry of dust and gravel. Virgil’s windshield was bombarded with debris almost immediately, and the tail of his car was starting to feel just a bit too unsteady for comfort. Just as he was about to fishtail, he slammed his breaks with a string of curses explicit enough to make the devil cower. His car screeched, wheels gliding over dust before jerking to a stop. 

“Peralta, those spike strips better be in the right place,” Virgil said into his radio. He opened his door and got out, watching the blue car speed down the road, leaving only a trail of dust in its wake. “Road became a hazard, I had to stop pursuit.” He saw the lights from Roman's car glowing through the trees in the distance, but other than that, he couldn't see anything.

“They're down. I see him coming. He will be on the spike strips in three, two, one--”

Over the radio, Virgil could hear the familiar sound of tires bursting once hitting the spikes. There was the sound of screeching brakes. The car had come to a stop. Virgil couldn't see anything for those damn trees. 

“He's stopped,” said Roman. “Did a 360 before ending up halfway on the shoulder. Let me just say this, I am amazing.”

“Is he getting out?” Virgil asked, pointedly ignoring the last part of that statement. He got back in his car and started down the road at a slower pace. 

“No, he's not. He's just sitting there. I can't tell if he's passed out or not.”

Virgil furrowed his brows. “Did he crash?”

“No, he didn't crash, just spun.”

“Then, why would he be--?”

He was cut off by the sound of a gunshot. At once Virgil punched down on the gas toward the sound as Roman came over the radio again.

“Shots fired!” he yelled. “Shots fired! Requesting all available units for backup!”

Virgil cursed once again and made his way down the road until the car came into view. The passenger side window was shot out, because the perp was still in the driver's seat shooting out at Roman, who was taking cover behind his car. 

“Logan?” Virgil said into his radio.

“On the way, over.”

Virgil nearly jumped out of his car, rounding the back and opening the passenger door for cover. He took out the loudspeaker of his car and spoke into it.

“Put the gun down and put your hands up!” he ordered of the perp. Of course, he knew that the perp definitely would not, because why would he? But that order was all he needed to get his attention, because as soon as he said that, the perp turned his gun on Virgil.

“Woah!” Virgil exclaimed as he ducked down behind the door. Then he spoke into his radio as bullets whizzed past him. “Can you get closer? I've distracted him.” He tried to peek his head over for a moment, but had to lean down once again as a bullet went through his window. He covered his head as pieces of glass rained down around him. A few of them hit his arm, but it was nothing serious.

“Keep him trained on you, and I can get right under his nose,” Roman replied. 

The sound of sirens got closer, and Virgil knew Logan was almost here, but he couldn't wait. He had to start shooting now. 

Virgil slowly made his way on the other side of the car while bullets still hit his passenger door. He peeked his head out from behind the trunk. Turning around, he saw Logan stopping his car and getting out, immediately ducking behind his door as well. 

“Logan, if you have a shot, take it,” Virgil said through his radio. “I'm going to get closer.”

Logan pulled out his own gun. “Don't worry, I will.”

Now that it was Logan's duty to distract the perp, Virgil looked for a new piece of cover that would get him closer. He spotted a line of metal garbage cans to his left, and took a diving leap behind them. 

“Roman?”

“Take a look,” he said. 

Virgil took a look around the edge of the garbage can, and saw that Roman was crouched behind the passenger side of the perp's car. Upon seeing Virgil, he gave a little wave with his gun. Virgil rolled his eyes, glad he could now that he wasn't speeding down the road. 

Logan turned on his loudspeaker. “You are surrounded, we are closing in, and there are more police on the way. There is no way out of this.”

Instead of answering with words, the perp used the language they so often use in times like these: more bullets. Virgil poked his head out and took a shot at the car. It hit the windshield, going through, but it wasn't even close to the perp. He needed to be closer. Thankfully, a conveniently placed stack of pallets was a few feet forward and to the right. Not the best cover, but it was something. A few feet could make all the difference. He went forward behind them, and nearly ended up with a new piercing in his ear. The bullet had gone so close he could feel the sting of heat against his head. He'd just been grazed. He reached up and felt where it got him, pulling his fingers back at the pain.

“Roman?” Virgil said into his radio, “You gonna sit there and look pretty or are you gonna do something?”

“Oh, you wanted me to do something?”

Just as Virgil was about to cuss him out for being this sarcastic in what was literally a life or death situation, he saw Roman raise up and stick his taser through the window. He pulled the trigger.

It was almost like two small lightning bolts darting across the seat right into the perp's neck. Well, one into the neck and one into the shoulder. Both Logan and Virgil rose up and sprinted over to the car, converging on the perp, who had now dropped his gun and was exclaiming in pain. 

Virgil reached the car before Logan did, and he reached in and pulled out the gun, a large, semi automatic thing. He then opened the door and pulled the perp out onto the ground, deftly cuffing him.

“Oh, wh-wait a second!” Virgil said to the perp. He leaned down so they were making eye contact. “You're not Dorene Hardesty! We all thought you were on the way home from church.”

The perp didn't say anything. Roman rounded the side and took a bow. “Peralta saves the day once again,” he said. 

“Oh shut up. Read him his rights Logan.”

Logan did so, and Virgil walked back to his car with Roman close behind. “You want to know why I became a detective, Roman?”

“Why?”

“I love the paperwork. It's what I live for. I hate being on the field.”

Roman crossed his arms, leaning back against the hood of Virgil's car. “I thought you didn't like sarcasm while on duty.”

“Duty's over. Perp's arrested. I can be as sarcastic as I want.” Virgil put his gun in his holster as he walked over to shut his passenger door, but as he did so, his arm seemed to scream with pain. He cursed under his breath, holding his shoulder.

“You alright?” asked Roman. Logan passed him with the perp, leading him to his car. 

When Virgil pulled his hand back, it was bloody. He looked down and saw that his jacket now had a hole in it, ringed in blood. “I think I got shot,” he said matter of factly. 

“What? Where?” Roman rushed over, concern evident in his voice, looking at the wound. “You're just realizing that?”

“When did I get shot?”

“I mean, probably during the shootout.”

Virgil looked down at his passenger door, which had more than a couple bullet holes in it. Near one of the holes was a small spatter of blood. That must've been where it happened. “I thought that was just a piece of glass bouncing off my jacket.”

Roman spoke into his radio. “Requesting ambulance on Washtenaw and King. Injured officer. Shoulder wound.” He peeled off Virgil's jacket and tried to examine it further. “Does it hurt?”

“It's a gunshot wound, Roman. It hurts a little. But, I think I'm still feeling the adrenaline or whatever, so I'm fine. I'll be fine, I've been shot before.”

“Yeah, but I didn't care back then.” Roman half smiled, leaning closer.

“Because you weren't deeply and tragically in love with me back then?” Virgil said in a low voice.

Roman hummed. “Exactly.”

Wordlessly, they both leaned in and kissed each other; a slow, simple thing. Roman put his hands against Virgil’s chest, feeling his heartbeat. It was going about as fast against his ribcage as their cars were down the street. He didn’t say anything about it though, since Virgil didn’t look like he was feeling it so much. Practically the only time he didn't notice how fast his heart was beating was on the field, when he wasn’t allowed to focus on anything else but the situation at hand.

It sounded counter-intuitive, but the stress of this job really eased Virgil’s anxiety.

After a moment, Patton and Remi pulled up in their car. 

“Is that what you called for backup about?” Remi called from the driver’s seat. Virgil and Roman pulled away, and immediately Virgil’s features melted back into hardened terseness. “Cuz that seems real intense.”

“Actually, yeah. We figured since you weren’t catching any criminals you needed to see some kind of action,” Virgil replied without missing a beat. He could see Patton snort in his seat. “How's the vic?”

“Okay,” Bittender called. “It wasn't a fatal shot. Some recovery, but she should be fine.”

Virgil felt the aching of his shoulder start to thump a little harder. They all waited for the ambulance to show up and treat him, then went back to the station. Halfway there, Virgil got a blip on his radio, and the dispatcher said that a unit was requesting backup for a 10-57 down Correy Ave. Hit and run. As much as he wanted to head towards there, he knew he'd be pretty much useless without the accuracy of his favorite arm. He chuckled to himself.

“I live for the paperwork,” he said into his radio after the dispatcher disconnected.

“That's why you became a detective,” replied Roman through a puff of static.

Damn right.


	2. Adrien

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'll be fine. I've been shot before."
> 
> "Yeah, but I didn't care back then."
> 
> This chapter shows just what Roman means by 'back then.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank RandomCoil for inspiring me with this idea. I know they didn't directly give it to me, but they led me to the insight, and I appreciate that.

The night was chill and empty of stars. Even the moon had decided to stay behind a thick curtain of dark clouds. The only illumination was from the few flickering street lights that lined the deserted road. Everyone seemed to have agreed that going out on a humid night like this wasn't worth it, so they all stayed in their beds. Only a few cars whizzed past, trying to hurry home. Virgil was walking down the sidewalk, holding his newly purchased suit in a clear sleeve hanger. His other hand was holding his phone, on which he was talking to Roman.

“Well, yeah, I figured you were going to wear a dress, but we both know that wasn’t going to happen for me,” he said. There was a small smile on his face as he listened to Roman talk about what he was going to wear. There had been talk of dresses, and Virgil politely turned it down. He’d gone out right at that moment to look for a suit while Roman looked for a dress, and Virgil stayed well past closing to find a color to match Roman’s dress. He kept changing the design, which made Virgil also have to change the design. He made sure to tip the designers extra once he left.

“I know I would Roman, but it’s not just something I would wear in public. Maybe at home,” said Virgil.

“You’d buy a wedding dress and then just wear it at home?” asked Roman. 

Virgil pressed the phone against his shoulder and ear to pull out his keys as he neared his car. He popped the trunk open and carefully laid the suit inside. “You’re telling me after the wedding, I’m not gonna see you sitting on the couch in it?”

Roman snorted. “Knightly, I’m going to be wearing it as we chase criminals.”

This made Virgil laugh as he rounded his car to the driver’s side. But just as he opened the door, something made him stop in his tracks. He looked in the direction of the sound he’d heard. It was some kind of shuffling, then a click. A click that was all too familiar to him by now. 

After a pause, Roman said, “You still there V?”

“Yeah. Um…” Virgil tossed his satchel in the car and shut the door, free hand already reaching towards the gun sitting in his holster. “I think I heard something.”

Immediately, Roman’s tone changed along with Virgil’s. Even at home, they were never off duty, were they? “What is it? Do you need me to drive down there?”

“No,” Virgil replied, staring down a nearby alley where he suspected the sound came from. “I think it’s fine. They’re probably just a pack of teens swooning over their dad’s stolen pistol.”

“A gun? Virgil, you don't need to be around guns right now.”

“Listen, I'm already carrying, so it's not like they can gang up on me. I'll just tell em to knock it off and go home.”

There was a hesitant pause on the other end. Then Roman sighed and said, “Be careful.”

“Love you too.” Virgil hung up the phone and put it in his jacket pocket, zipping it closed. Then his hand reached ever so quietly for his gun, thumb resting on it as it sat in his holster. Very slowly, he rounded his car and stepped toward the alley. There was a dumpster sitting there right after the corner, and there were shadows that could be seen dancing across its surface. Virgil counted three of them. And just as he suspected, he could also barely make out the shadow of a gun in one of their hands. 

“Listen,” Virgil called. Immediately, all noise stopped. “I’m with the TPD, and I’m going to have to ask you all to go home. It’s definitely past curfew for you.”

There was some shuffling as Virgil neared, and some exchanged whispers that he couldn’t quite make out. Then one of them gasped just the slightest bit.

“What’s your name?” one of them called. The voice sounded almost distorted. Like they were trying to hide what they really looked like. Virgil pulled out his gun and held it low in both hands, steps deliberate and careful. He could feel his heart start to pick up speed in his chest. 

“Sergeant Virgil Knightly. There isn’t any trouble. It’s just late is all. Your parents are probably worried about you.” He had stopped to hear their response, but when he got none, he continued forward, rounding the corner. “It’s a little dangerous for kids to be hanging out on this side of town at night.”

As he rounded the corner, he found that they weren’t kids at all, but instead three grown men. One of them was holding a gun, pointing it directly at Virgil’s head. 

“I think the only one in any danger here is you, Sergeant,” said one of the men. “Put the gun down.”

Virgil did as he was told, trying as discreetly as possible to get as much detail about the guy’s face as he did so. White. Blonde hair that fell in waves across his eyes. Yellow teeth. Virgil lowered the gun to the ground. Faded leather jacket. About 5’7”. The hand holding the gun has a small scar on the thumb. Gravelly voice, indicative of heavy smoking. Virgil then kicked it across with his foot. The other two had masks on, which was strange. Why would only one of them not have a mask on? Why wouldn’t all of them want to be wearing masks?

Virgil swallowed hard. He had a few guesses.

The gunman nodded to his lackeys, and they went over behind him, grabbing his hands and forcing them behind his back. He could feel them putting a zip tie around his wrist and pulling it tight. He fought the urge to wince at the pinching of his skin. They then searched his pants pockets, and Virgil held his breath, hoping they wouldn’t find his phone. Once he got a chance, he could call the Nine-Nine and get some help. 

Thankfully, they didn’t think to search his zipped jacket pockets, but they did take his wallet and keys, tossing them over to the gunman, who happily took them. 

“You remember me, Knightly?” the man asked. 

“Sadly, no. I wouldn’t forget a face that gnarly. Sure you don’t have me confused with someone else?”

He cocked the gun and stepped closer. “You mean someone like...Peralta?”

If Virgil didn’t know any better, he would have said that his heart stopped in his chest. Suddenly, he was overcome with the memory.

“Adrien?” he asked.

Adrien smiled a wicked smile. “Guess you do remember this gnarly face, don’t you?” He nodded at his men again.

Virgil felt a hard and sudden pressure in the side of his head. And then, he didn’t feel anything.

***

_“Roman Peralta, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to--”_

_Suddenly, there was a gunshot. It went over Virgil’s head, just missing him. He ducked with a curse, reaching for his gun. Roman then elbowed him in the nose, which caused him to go reeling back against the ground. He pulled out his phone and dialed Logan. “Logan, it’s me. Call the nine-nine. I found a guy trying to rob the bank and brought him down but he got away. Send backup.”_

_Virgil got up from the ground, ignoring the blood that was starting to drip out of his nose, and he started to run to where Roman was heading. He turned a corner, and Virgil was close behind. When he rounded, he found Roman standing there with a man. They were kissing._

_Without even looking over, the man held up a gun. “The next one goes through your head,” he said in a hoarse voice. Roman turned his head to Virgil._

_“Why wait for next time? Do it now Adrien,” he said._

_The man--Adrien--looked Virgil up and down, smirk on his face. “Should I?”_

_“You don’t want to do that,” said Virgil. “Just let me arrest him and you can go free.”_

_“You think I’d leave my boyfriend in the hands of someone like you? You really are a pig.” He turned fully towards Virgil. “Give me the handcuff key.”_

_“I can’t do that Adrien. He’s bound by law.”_

_“The only person I get bound by is HIM!” yelled Roman. He gave Adrien a kiss on his cheek._

_“Final warning, cop,” said Adrien._

_Sirens were sounding in the distance, but they were quickly getting closer. But Virgil knew it wasn’t going to be quick enough. He took in a deep breath. What was he willing to risk?_

_He sighed, heart pounding with anger, and reached for his key. “We’re going to catch both of you,” he said, because what else was there to say? He tossed over the handcuff key._

_Adrien caught it, and uncuffed Roman. They shared yet another kiss, and then Adrien gave Virgil one final look. “We’ll be seeing each other again,” he said. Then he lowered his gun down so it was pointing at Virgil’s stomach, and he pulled the trigger. They then ran away, laughing like schoolgirls._

_Virgil screamed, suddenly very aware of the fact that he wasn’t wearing a vest. He wasn’t technically on duty, so of course he wasn’t geared up. He backed up against a wall and slid down it, pressing his hand against his stomach. When he pulled his hand away, it was bloody. He inhaled sharply, and pulled out his phone again._

_“Logan? I...may have been shot. Forgo the backup in my direction, I’d rather have an ambulance.”_

_He laid there, trying his best to control his breathing and not pass out until the ambulance (and a very worried, angry Logan) arrived._

***

When Virgil woke up, all he could see was that he was in a dark room with wooden walls. Maybe a barn or a shed somewhere. His head was thumping along with his heartbeat, and he squinted against the dim light. After a moment, Adrien came into his vision.

“Look who’s awake.” he said. “Feeling good and well rested?”

Virgil’s voice was raspy. How long had he been out? “I feel like sleeping beauty. Did you kiss me to wake me up?”

“Well, I know who you’ve been kissing, Knightly. Now tell me something, _Sergeant.”_ He leaned in close. Close enough for Virgil to smell the cigarettes on his breath. “Where. Is. Roman?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hurr a durr comment


	3. Immunity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien and Roman's history starts to get a little more complicated.

“What do you want with Roman?” asked Virgil. The dry, cracked wood pushed into his hands that were tied behind his back. He knew he should be thinking of his life that was in danger, but really, the only thing he could focus on was the impending splinters that were soon to bury in his hands. He tried to wriggle them loose, but of course that didn’t work. 

“I think you know what I want with Peralta,” Adrien said, voice low and angry. “As much of an idiot as you are, I know you aren’t stupid.”

Virgil feigned intrigue. He leaned forward as far as he could given how he was tied up. “Do you guys have some kind of history that I don’t know about?”

This sarcastic statement earned him a crisp punch in the face. His head reeled back and Virgil whispered a curse as what seemed like a burst of light flashed across his eyes. Adrien packed quite the smack. Yet, when he brought his head back up, he was smiling, despite feeling a dull throbbing starting in his nose.

“You’re not gonna be smiling soon enough, cop,” said Adrien. “Did you think I brought you here to have a tea party?”

Virgil looked around. “I mean, I thought so. But you’re grossly underprepared. No cups, no tea, no balloons. What kind of host are you?”

Another punch. It felt like Virgil’s skin was tightening against his face to the point of splitting open, but it faded quickly in replacement of a harder pulsing. After a moment, Virgil could feel the small drip of blood dribbling down his nose. He laughed. “That one was better, but your technique could be improved. Wanna try again?”

Adrien had no qualms about trying again. This time, Virgil kept his head laying back long enough to not get disoriented. There was a lone bulb hanging from a wire in the middle of the room that he determined to be a shed. It swung back and forth lazily, casting a dim light in the immediate area. Next to him, a workman’s bench sat with a few tools on it, one of them being Virgil’s gun. Since the place was sloppily made with wood, there were a few slats in the walls, where a chill breeze swept through. It was then Virgil realized he didn’t have his jacket on anymore. He looked up again, glancing around for it. 

Thankfully, it hadn’t gone far. It sat in a lone pile near the door, along with Virgil’s holster, and a different, leather jacket that seemed familiar, but he couldn’t put a finger on what memory it triggered.

“You know what I want, Knightly. Just let me have him, and I’ll let you out of here.” Adrien stood there with his arms crossed.

“You think that’s just gonna happen?” asked Virgil. “You think Roman’s just gonna waltz in here and let himself be whisked away with you while I sit here and rot on this chair? I’d rather get punched in the face again.”

Internally, he braced himself for another strike, but he didn't get one. Instead, he felt his hair being grabbed and his head being yanked back. Then Adrien pulled out a knife and flicked it into position, holding it close against Virgil’s throat. Adrien leaned close, and Virgil could smell the scent of stale cigarettes floating off of his breath. 

“You sure you want to do that Adrien?” asked Virgil, voice strained. He tried to keep it measured, but he knew if he even swallowed hard enough, the blade would cut through. “I don’t think it would be such a good idea.”

“Oh really? Why’s that?” Adrien said with a hiss. “Why not just cut you to pieces right now?”

“Because we both know that I’m the only link between you and Roman.”

There was a pause. Virgil’s statement hung in the air like smoke before disappearing into a musty silence. The knife moved no further away from his neck, but the grip on his hair seemed to loosen the slightest bit. Despite the fact that he definitely did not have the upper hand in terms of weapons right now, Virgil couldn’t help smiling. Adrien glared at him, no doubt debating on whether or not to cut the night short (quite literally). But after a moment, he stepped back. Virgil fought the urge to sigh with relief. He wasn’t going to give Adrien the satisfaction of knowing he’d been nervous.

“How do you know I couldn’t just find him without you?” asked Adrien. “I don’t need you. I could shoot you with your own gun and get to him myself.

Virgil bit his lip. He was about to blow this guy’s mind. “Well, let me lay out the facts for you Adrien. You are a wanted convict. Robbery, assault, attempted murder too if you forgot about one of our earlier encounters.” he caught Adrien glancing down at his stomach. “I’m gonna assume you know that Roman and I live together at my place, because I’m sure that you’ve broken into his old place to try and find him, no doubt giving the old lady he sold it to a heart attack. The only person who knows where I live besides myself is Roman, and you know I’d let you shoot me before I told you where it is, so I doubt you’ll find him going door to door any time soon.”

Adrien walked over to where Virgil’s jacket was laying, next to the leather one. He picked up the leather one and held it in his hands, staring down at it with a look Virgil couldn’t quite decipher. There was still anger behind his eyes.

“And we both know,” Virgil continued, “that you won’t be waltzing into a police precinct to find him since everyone and their mother knows what you look like. So the only way you’ll end up face to face with him is if he comes here, which he will. As soon as he finds out that I’m missing, he’ll call the nine-nine and start looking for me, and since my phone is in that jacket pocket right there--” he nodded towards his jacket-- “it’ll ping off the closest cell tower. He’ll be here within the next few hours Adrien.”

Adrien wasn’t looking at Virgil. He put the leather jacket on, sticking his hands in the pockets. “That’s exactly what I want,” he said, going over and picking up Virgil’s jacket. “You think you could call him? Speed up the process? I can’t wait to kill you right in front of him.”

“He won’t be coming alone Adrien. There’ll be a whole team out there waiting for you and your lackeys. Where are they, by the way? They seemed fun. Are they joining us for the tea party?”

The wind picked up outside, and it seemed to rattle the very walls of the shed. Adrien fished around in Virgil’s pockets, and he pulled out his phone. Virgil could see that he had missing calls from Roman. He felt something twist inside his chest as he imagined Roman, at home, worridley pacing the floor and watching the door, waiting for Virgil to walk through it. He imagined Roman feeling, deep down, that something was wrong. He swallowed. 

Adrien looked down at Virgil’s phone, and he clicked the missing calls notification to dial Roman. Then he walked over to Virgil and held the phone to his ear. “Feel free to tell him whatever you want,” he said. 

As the phone rung, waiting for Roman to pick up, Virgil smelled something. It was a familiar scent, one he’d taken in many times since getting with Roman. And then, it clicked.

This was Roman’s old jacket.

***

(6 years earlier)

_Roman stuck his hands in his leather jacket’s pockets, smug smile stuck on his stupid face. Virgil fought the urge to slap it since he was in the captain’s office._

_“Sir,” Virgil said to Carmani, his captain, “with all due respect, are you insane?”_

_“Excuse me?” asked Carmani. “I am your superior officer, Knightly. Watch your tone.”_

_“Sir, I’ve been tracking this guy for over a year. He’s stolen over a hundred thousand dollars from places he’s robbed, and you want him to just go free?”_

_“I have information you want,” said Roman, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. He was loving watching Virgil get this frustrated. Virgil kept his fists behind his back so the captain wouldn’t see them. “Information you need.”_

_“He’s not wrong,” Carmani said, turning to Virgil again. “Adrien is one of the most dangerous people on the street right now. Taking him down would mean many lives spared in the long run. And he’ll only talk if we give him immunity.”_

_“I can find Adrien myself. Logan is a genius, Patton knows what he’s doing, and Remy can be useful if we explain it to him real slow. We can find him.”_

_Carmani sat down in his chair. “With all due respect, sergeant, you’ve had quite enough time to find him. You’ve had false tips, leads that didn’t pan out, and you got yourself shot.”_

_“That was before I even knew who Adrien was, mind you,” Virgil said. Roman snickered._

_Carmani disregarded what he said, and continued. “You practically got on your knees and begged me not to give the case to Major Crimes, so I didn’t. And you haven’t made any progress. As far as I see it, this is our only option.”_

_Virgil swallowed. “I can work my CI’s.”_

_“Do you really think they’ll give you anything more than what they’ve already given you?”_

_Virgil gestured to Roman, who was eating this up. If he was allowed, he’d probably take out his phone and record the show. “They-- they’re dating!” exclaimed Virgil. “How do you know he won’t lie to us just to save his and his boyfriend’s ass?”_

_“He won’t lie,” said Carmani, shooting a stony look towards Roman, “because if he does, he’ll be thrown in jail so fast it’ll make his head spin.”_

_That sobered Roman up quickly. He offered a friendly smile, but Virgil could see the nerves behind it. “I could take him or leave him,” said Roman. “To be honest, I’m kind of looking for a way to get rid of him. He makes life too hard. I want to get on the straight and narrow.”_

_“You better keep that mindset.” Carmani eyed Virgil for a second. “You’ll work with him, Knightly.”_

_“No!”_

_“Dismissed.”_

_“But--”_

_“I said ‘dismissed’.”_

_Virgil wanted to say something more, but decided not to. Instead, he nodded his head and led Roman out, gritting his teeth the whole time._

_Once they were out, Roman put a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “Whatever happens, Virge, you’re not allowed to fall in love with me.”_

_Virgil jerked his shoulder away. “Not gonna be a problem.” He started to walk away, but turned around at the last moment. “And, by the way, if you call me ‘Virge’ one more time, I will shoot you in the face.”_

***

Roman came on the other line. His voice was a mix of worry and relief. “Virge? Where are you? Are you safe? Why aren’t you home?”

“Uh--” Virgil cleared his throat; he wasn’t aware of how scratchy his voice had become-- “Well, I’m okay.”

“But where are you? It’s 4 in the morning!”

Virgil looked up at Adrien. He nodded. “Your ex kidnapped me. He’s got me tied up and he’d going to kill me when you show up here.”

Virgil heard Roman exclaim, but he didn’t have time to respond, because Adrien took the phone and held it to his own ear. “Hey Peralta. Remember me?” There was a pause, then he continued. “Yeah, he’s right here with me. He’s living. Got a little blood on his nose though. But there’ll be a little more blood once you get here. See you real soon.”

He hung up, then put Virgil’s phone on the workbench, out of reach.


	4. The Shed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lo and behold! another chapter! its been a while, but this story is now my baby, and i must treat it right. im going to tie up all these loose ends if it kills me.

Roman wasn’t easily stirred up, but his hands were shaking by the time he put the phone down after Adrien had hung up. He started to pace, trying to level his breathing back down to normal. He counted his steps and counted his breaths, because he knew he couldn’t think clearly if he was panicking. How could he help it though? His fiance was out there with his murderer of an ex and he was in danger! He was going to get hurt! 

“Come on,” Roman said out loud. “Calm down.”

How could he? His thoughts were running so fast that he couldn’t hold onto one long enough to process it before the next one jumped in. How did Adrien get out? He was in jail, wasn’t he? Roman put him in jail, all those years ago, nearly 6 now. How in the world was it possible that he got out early? The guy had a double life sentence!

No, Roman reminded himself. He knew Adrien had connections. Roman had been in jail before, and Adrien had connections with the guards to get him out early, so it wasn’t a surprise. But how did he find Virgil? And why go through Virgil? Why not try to contact Roman directly? Virgil was going to get hurt and it would be Roman’s fault because his stupid ass ex boyfriend didn’t know how to let things go!

He knew was starting to spiral, so he picked up his phone again and dialed Logan before he spontaneously combusted.

After a few rings, he picked up. His voice was groggy and slow. “Roman?” Logan asked. “It’s--” a pause; Roman guessed he was putting on his glasses-- “It’s 4:23 in the morning. What is going on?”

Roman felt like the air had been punched out of him. He took in a deep breath. “Virgil’s been kidnapped.”

Not even a beat passed before Logan put two and two together. “Adrien?”

“Adrien.”

Logan sighed, and there was some shifting of covers. Perhaps he’d sat up. “How did he get out so quickly?”

“I don’t know,” Roman said. He ran his hand through his hair nervously. “He has connections. I requested he go to another prison but the prosecutor couldn’t shake it. We need to save Virgil.”

“How long do you think Virgil will be able to hold his own?”

Roman let out his breath in a huff. “I mean, he isn’t weak, I know that. But, Adrien is dangerous. He isn’t going to actually try to kill Virgil until we get there, but--” On the word ‘kill’, Roman’s voice cracked. He hoped Logan didn’t notice. “So we have to be sure to be quiet once we find them. But I have no doubt in my mind that Adrien will...” In his mind, Roman hated that he remembered what Adrien always loved to say about his victims.

_I like to play with my food._

What a sicko. To imagine Roman used to be with him. He shook the thought from his head. “Get everyone together. I’ll start looking for him.”

“Where do you think they are?” Logan asked.

Roman looked around the room, as if the answer would present itself in the form of all of his photos and knick knacks that lined the walls. His eyes wandered around mindlessly until they landed on a little ceramic figure made to look like a wooden house. It was given to him by his grandmother, and he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away. It hit him. “His shed,” Roman said. He ran over to the closet and grabbed his coat. “He had this shed we'd-- he’d always hide out in. I think that's where they are.” He threw the coat on and grabbed his keys. 

“You don't think he'd assume that'd be your first choice to guess? He's probably somewhere else.”

“No.” Roman locked the door behind him and rushed out to his car. “He wants me to find him. He _called_ me Logan. That's how I knew. He called me with Virgil's phone and told me he kidnapped him.”

“Well, then it's a trap Roman. He probably wants to kill you.”

Roman started his car and pulled out of his driveway, phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder. “Of course he wants to kill me. Of course it's a trap, but I'd rather him kill me than Virgil.” He started down the street. He knew where it was, and it wasn’t far from his house. Maybe 20 minutes. He was halfway disgusted at himself for not needing directions to the shed. It was still embedded in his memory after all these years he’d been trying to forget it.

“Roman--”

“I know it's a stupid thing to do Logan. Just help me.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. Perhaps Logan was about to say it was too dangerous to go, or something along those lines. But Roman was sure that Logan caught it. The pleading in his voice as he said 'help me’. The way his sentences shivered on the way out. It made Logan go quiet. Then he sighed a little. 

“I’ll get the nine nine together,” he said. 

“Thank you.” Roman hung up, eyes glued to the road. His heart was beating out of his chest, and this time, it wasn't the good kind of nervous.

*************

Virgil caught his breath, trying once again to untie the knot that was holding his hands behind his back. And once again, it didn't work. The rope was starting to run into his wrists to an uncomfortable level. He could feel his skin starting to get raw. How long had he been here? From what he could see in the cracks of the shed, the sun wasn't up yet. But if it wasn't now, it would be soon.

“You know,” he said to a pacing Adrien, “I do like being choked, just not in this setting.” He coughed, feeling the pulse on his neck from where Adrien's hands were. “Maybe if you made things a little more comfortable, we could have some real fun.” He tried once again to wiggle out of the rope. No avail.

Adrien scoffed. “You're lucky I'm waiting till your boyfriend gets here to finish the job.” He opened and closed his fists. “Otherwise I'd have killed you a long time ago.”

Virgil shrugged. “Why wait? Just do it now.” 

Adrien didn't say anything. He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets and kept pacing back and forth, staring intently at the ground. For all Virgil knew, he probably _was_ deciding whether to kill him now or not. It was clear he didn't have the greatest temper, and saying the wrong thing could be enough to send him over the edge.

But Virgil knew what he was doing. He's had Adrien pegged for a long time. He knew which buttons to push. He'd interrogated the guy for God's sake. He got a signed confession from him, which was the thing that sent him to jail. Virgil knew how to toy with someone like him, and he'd been forming a plan ever since he woke up, so it wasn't like he didn't know what he was doing. 

“Oh,” said Virgil, “I get it. You've been planning this since you've been in jail, right? I'm sure you have some kind of badass one liner planned when you see him, don't you? Something like, 'let's have some _gun’.”_ Adrien looked at him like he didn't know what Virgil was saying. “You know. Gun. Fun. Let's have some fun, let's have some gun.”

“Shut up,” Adrien said. He pulled out his knife. 

“Okay, I get it, that wasn't the best. I actually stole it from Patton.”

“Shut up,” Adrien spat again. “Stop talking.” He flipped the knife open.

Virgil looked around. “So, here’s the million dollar question. Where are we? If you wanted Roman to find us, why wouldn't you tell him where you are?” 

Adrien stopped pacing, eyes glued to the blade of his knife. 

Virgil feigned revelation. As if he didn't realize where they were ten minutes into his kidnapping. “Oh! Are we in that famous shed of yours? You know, the one we found you in after Roman decided he didn't want anything to do with you anymore, and decided to help the cops?”

That was the right button. In an instant Adrien was upon him, knife against his throat. “I suggest you stop talking right now unless you want to get cut.”

“Or what?” Virgil said, strained. The blade was cutting through just the slightest bit, but that was from sloppy technique more than his anger. “You’ve already shown your cards Adrien.”

There was a hanging pause before Adrien let him go with an animalistic growl that Virgil recognized. It was the same sound Adrien made when Virgil broke him in interrogation. 

“You want Roman to see you hurt me,” Virgil continued, “You want him to watch as I die. It satisfies the end to the play you’ve constructed in your head, and this whole scheme you’ve concocted won’t be perfect unless it goes according to your plan.”

They had a sort of stare off for a moment. Adrien looked at Virgil, and Virgil looked at Adrien. And then Virgil braced himself.

There was one, two, three punches respectively, that Virgil so kindly received from Adrien. By the end of the third punch, Virgil felt dizzy, but that was expected. He didn’t try to shake it out though. Instead, he just let his head drop, letting the rest of his body go limp in the chair. 

“Oh come on,” Adrien said. “You put on the tough act and then fall over after a few hits?” He pushed Virgil, and Virgil was careful not to move. Then Adrien lifted his head up by his hair. Again, Virgil pretended to be out like a light. He let his head fall when Adrien let go. “Wake up, asshole.” Virgil didn’t move. 

“Goddamnit!” Adrien yelled. Then Virgil heard some violent footsteps, and the slamming of a door. 

Virgil smiled despite the blood leaking from his nose. 

*************

_Virgil brought out the corkboard with all of Adrien’s information on it. But he made sure to do it as begrudgingly as possible. Since now, Roman was technically on the case with them, he needed all of that information, but that didn’t mean Virgil had to be happy about it._

_“This is all we got on him. And you,” Virgil added with a pointed glare._

_Roman waltzed up to the board, where his and Adrien’s picture were tacked. He ripped his picture off and crumpled it up. “We won’t be needing this anymore,” he said, tossing the ball towards the trash, missing by half a foot. “Since I’m a cop now.”_

_“Let me make some things very clear before we continue,” said Virgil, walking over to the crumpled up picture. He picked it up slowly, eyes never leaving Roman. He un-crumpled the picture, walked over to the board, and pinned it back up next to Adrien’s. Then, he walked up to Roman, and was inches from his face. His anger was basically radiating off of him. “First. You are not a cop. You will never be a cop.”_

_Even though it was very clear Roman did not have the upper hand right now, he still tried to be coy. “I could if I wanted to be--”_

_Virgil put his hand up. Roman stopped dead in his tracks. “No,” said Virgil. “You are not a cop. You are a criminal. You will continue to be a criminal until your boyfriend is in jail, and if you don’t work hard to make sure that’s where he ends up, that’s where you’ll be joining him.”_

_Roman opened his mouth to say something, but Virgil continued on. “Second: I am the lead detective on this case. Do you know what that means?”_

_There was a pause before Roman said, “Am I allowed to respond?”_

_“It means,” Virgil continued, “that you do what I tell you do to. You don’t do things relating to this case unless I give you the okay. That includes messing with my board. Your picture stays on this board until I say it comes down. Understand?”_

_Roman nodded. “Yes ma’am.”_

_“Glad we understand each other,” Virgil replied. He turned to the board again. “Now, out of all the places on here--” he indicated a map of Tampa and the surrounding regions that was tacked on the board, with several places marked-- “where would he most likely be at this moment?”_

_Roman walked up to the board, but kept a safe distance. He studied each of the places that were tacked with red pins, and after a few moments, he looked at Virgil. “Can I, pretty please, alter these pins in some way so as to help the case? I’ll take away the ones I know he isn’t to narrow it down for you.”_

_Virgil looked at the board, then at Roman. “Just the pins,” he said._

_He watched as Roman reached up on the board where the red pins were. After a moment, he plucked one down. Then another. And another. By the end of his picking, there were no pins on the map. Roman turned around with all the pins in his hand. He looked quite satisfied with himself._

_“You have two seconds to explain before I take those pins and throw them at you,” Virgil said._

_Roman walked over to the trash can and dropped the pins in, except for one. “He isn’t in any of those places. All those hideouts? They’re decoys.” He then went over to the map and placed the pin on it, in a backwood about 45 minutes out from the precinct. It was a swampy, forested area. “So we found this shed here, and it’s been our place ever since.”_

_“How do you hide out in a shed?”_

_“Well when we found it, we modified it with a little room with beds and rations and things. It’s small, yeah, but the cops can’t find it.”_

_Virgil glared at the map, and his conversation with Carmani came back to him, about how Roman has information they needed. And deep down, he knew Carmani was right. He hated that Carmani was right._

_“Well, hopefully,” said Virgil, heading over to the trash can, “we can catch him quickly and be rid of you as soon as possible.” Virgil then took a cup of cold coffee that was sitting on the counter and poured the liquid it in the can, crumpling up the cup and throwing it in there too. Then he walked over and shoved the can into Roman’s arms._

_“Now,” said Virgil, “pick out those pins you just threw away for your little show. Save the dramatics for theater.”_

_He walked out. Roman stared after him, for maybe a little too long after he had left._


	5. Move In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while, huh? Yeah, I'm sorry. Schools been happening. Family's been happening. I know this chapter is sub par but I hope you enjoy it anyway!!!!!

_“Can I get a gun?” asked Roman. Virgil didn’t answer. “Can I at least get a vest or something? If I’m going in with you I should be protected.”_

_Virgil pointedly ignored him as he and Logan geared themselves up. He slid his gun in his holster, along with his ankle piece, turning as far away from Roman as possible. Logan shot Virgil a look that seemed to say, ‘this is the guy?’ Virgil rolled his eyes and nodded. ‘Yeah, I know right?’_

_“So, here’s what’s going to happen,” said Virgil to Logan. “You and Patton are going to stay outside to catch him in case he runs out. Remy and I are going to go in.”_

_Roman tapped Virgil’s shoulder, and Virgil didn't react. Only when he was tapped a second time did he reluctantly turn around. “Actually,” he said, “you might want to sneak in around back. Adrien always has some lackeys sitting out front to keep watch in case anyone shows up. At least one, usually two. Always armed. They’re some of his low level drug dealers he doesn’t mind being a dick to because he knows they won’t fight back.”_

_“You don’t think that them knowing where his hideout is would be dangerous in case they were to crack under police interrogation?” asked Logan._

_Roman shook his head. “Like I said, he knows they won’t fight back. He instills the fear of death in them if they ever talk. And plus, they’re inexperienced, mostly young adults, teenagers. They look up to him as a mentor.”_

_Virgil adjusted his holster, barely looking at him. “Mentor isn’t the word I’d use.”_

_“It's how they see him,” Roman said, shrugging. “Can I get my gun now?”_

_“You can't get a gun,” Logan said. He interjected because Virgil honestly looked as if he were about to blow a gasket, and the last thing they needed was a sergeant that had gone insane. “But you can have a vest.”_

_“Yeah,” Virgil said sarcastically, “wouldn't want you experiencing any consequences to your actions.”_

_Logan handed Roman a vest. “Hey listen,” said Roman, “I'm putting myself in a lot of danger to help you guys catch him. This is my ex boyfriend, I still care about him a little bit. Appreciate my effort!” He strapped the vest in place, but he did it hilariously wrong. Everything that could have been put in the wrong place was. Virgil saw, and laughed at his failure._

_“I know you’re making fun of me, but I have to say that i’ve never seen a smile come out of you before now, Mr. Stone Faced,” said Roman. Immediately, Virgil sobered up. “Never knew you had teeth.”_

_“Yeah, and you won’t be seeing any more of my teeth if you go out into fire looking like that. You're going to get yourself shot,” said Virgil. Logan grabbed his gun and left the room to go brief Remy and Patton, so it was up to Virgil to go up to Roman and fix his mistake. “See this?” He pointed at a large gap that the vest was supposed to be covering, but wasn't due to the way Roman had put it on. “This is meant to be covered. You have to--” he reached for a strap that would bring the two pieces of the vest together, but saw that the strap he wanted was entangled with another strap. “How do you manage to dodge the cops this long and you can't even use Velcro correctly?”_

_“I don’t have to be doing this you know! I could have let him go on and do whatever. I didn’t have to help you.”_

_Virgil fixed Roman’s vest as they talked. “Then why did you come to us? We could have found him without you.” Of course, they couldn’t have, but it would take a gun to his head to make him say otherwise._

_When Roman didn’t answer right away, Virgil assumed it was because he was watching his vest being fixed so he would know how to correctly put it on by himself next time. If there was a next time, that was. Hopefully they would catch Adrien with this ambush and be done with it so he could move on with his life without Roman interfering._

_But when Virgil finished, and looked up, Roman was staring at the floor. He had a look on his face that Virgil couldn’t quite decipher. He looked conflicted, but also kind of...sad? Virgil couldn’t tell. “What’s the problem?”_

_Roman backed away, crossing his arms. “Nothing,” he said in a quiet voice. He sat on a bench a few feet away, back facing Virgil. “Not like you’d care anyway considering how much you hate me.”_

_Virgil rolled his eyes, and almost left the room, because Roman was halfway right. He was on a mission to catch a murderer, not be a therapist to a thieving criminal. And if no one had caught on already, he wasn’t exactly partial to Roman being on the case with them. Every day Roman came in, Carmani would shoot Virgil a look to remind him not to kill Roman out of annoyance._

_But he couldn’t exactly get to the shed without Roman’s directions, and if Roman was feeling upset enough, or having second thoughts about helping, he may lead them to the wrong place just so Adrien could get away. Of course, he wouldn't get away with it, but people do stupid things under duress. Once, when Virgil was fresh out of the academy, he was chasing a drug dealer down the street. The dealer had veered into the road and started hopping on the hoods of cars to try and get away. Virgil didn't follow him; he just kept up with him, because this was Tampa. It was hot. Odds were some rich dude had his sunroof open, and thankfully he was right. The dealer did a split as he crashed down through a random car's roof, and ended up in the hospital with a broken rib. Virgil visited him long enough to read him his rights._

_So even though it wouldn't be the logical thing to do--mislead them--there would always be a chance. He was a criminal, after all. But if Virgil was going to solve the case, he had to keep Roman, at the very least, functional. So he walked over to where he was and decided it would probably be best if he sat down and listened to what Roman had to say so he wouldn’t be sulking by the time they had to leave. Virgil checked his watch. They had to leave in twenty minutes. This had better be over quick._

_“What's wrong?” asked Virgil. He sat down on the bench next to Roman, but not too close. He didn't want to end up being someone's crying shoulder._

_“It's just…” Roman sighed, staring down at his hands as he wring them together. “He isn't that great of a guy. I...I know you know that, of course, but I mean, he wasn't a great guy to...uh...to me either.”_

_So, Virgil thought, now that he's getting on your nerves, suddenly it's time to call the police? What about about, oh, I don't know, when he shot me in the stomach?!_

_Virgil didn't say that out loud though. What he ended up saying was, “Oh.”_

_“He was terrible to me. Brainwashed me. Called me terrible things, and uh…” Roman paused, trying to compose himself. “He would, um...hit me a lot, too.”_

_Virgil felt some empathy towards that. He moved the slightest bit closer. “That's rough, buddy.”_

_Roman nodded. “He had me so delusioned that I...I didn't realize what we were doing was wrong, because I thought it was for the right reasons. But when I finally snapped out of it? I was...horrified. At myself.”_

_“Glad you snapped out of it then.” Virgil was looking at the floor, wringing his hands together. He swallowed hard._

_“I couldn't believe the things I had done,” Roman continued. “To people. To myself. I was disgusting. I had no reason to do those things. I wasn't desperate. I wasn't broke. I wasn't anything. I was just…I...”_

_“Just in love?” Virgil finished for him._

_Roman looked over at him, brows furrowed together. “Yeah.”_

_There was a hanging pause between them for a second, and even though Virgil was looking back down, he could feel Roman looking at him.Trying to figure him out. Well, too bad. He wasn't in the mood to be figured out. Virgil stood up and smoothed his features over once again into a stony look. He put a hand on Roman's shoulder as he passed. “You're doing the right thing, just know that.” He walked out._

_Roman stared after him. That was probably the nicest thing Virgil had ever said to him._

***

Roman pulled his car up to the cabin in a slow crawl. He kept the headlights off, and tried to make as little noise as possible. He was going to park a little more up so he could more easily sneak around the back, but he still needed to see how many people were stationed outside so Logan and Remy knew where to go. Lo and behold, Adrien had two lackeys outside the front door, pacing back and forth with guns in their hands. A small light hanging above the doorstep illuminated them. Roman frowned at just how young they looked. Skinny, short, shaking from the cold of the night. They couldn't be older than 17. 

Roman tore his eyes away, and pulled onto the side of the road, turning his car off. He grabbed his walkie and said to Logan, “Two at the front. Don't shoot, just disarm.”

“Copy,” Logan said. The static cut out and all was quiet once again. 

Roman opened his door as quietly as possible, moving slowly out of his car, eyes never leaving the two lackeys pacing out front. If he was quiet enough, he could make it around back without either of them noticing him, which would be just according to plan. He shut his door with a small thwink and started down the road a little more. The farther down he went, the easier it would be to cross the street and get behind the cabin, which would mean he could get to Virgil even more easily.

His thoughts drifted to Virgil as he crouch walked down the road those few places. But how could he help it? It was freezing out here, and the cabin didn't have any type of temperature control. It was no telling how long he'd been sitting in there, shivering, waiting, wondering why Roman hadn't shown up yet. No doubt he was incapacitated in some way, because if he wasn't chances are he'd have fought his way out by now. Adrien was tough, but Virgil had 8 years of training on him. There was no question at who would win that fight. So, hopefully he was just tied up, and wasn't hurt so badly that he couldn't move. He knew in his logical mind that Adrien wouldn't be baiting Roman to the cabin if he didn't want to at least keep Virgil alive until he showed up. But in his terrified heart, part of him was scared that something irreversible had already happened. 

Roman shook the thoughts away. He needed to be focused on the here and now. Virgil wouldn't be saved if he fell into his thoughts. 

Eventually, the dim light dangling by the front of the cabin was nearly obstructed by trees, so Roman guessed he was far away enough that he could cross the road without being seen. Once crossed, he started his way back up behind the cabin. But after a few places, he heard considerable shuffling coming from the cabin. Roman froze, breath caught in his throat. Had they heard him? Somehow? Did they go back inside and notify Adrien? Roman was about to turn around and make a beeline to his car when his radio pinged.

“Disarmed and in custody,” came Remy's voice.

Roman stood up, composing himself through a deep breath. “Good. Wait outside until I give the signal.” He continued forward.

The swampy area was pitch black. Roman tried his best to keep moving forward, but it was slow going since the only thing he could use as a guideline was the light from the cabin. Thankfully, there was one hanging over the back door too. But every few steps, he would face-plant a hanging branch, or step into a muddy pile and have to coerce his shoe back out. It was some advantage at least if they ended up having to chase him. Even if Adrien knew this place like the back of his hand, it was still difficult to navigate. And besides, Roman knew this place too.

Eventually, he was close enough to the back door to see the details of the cabin. The splintering wood. The missing slats in the walls. The lone lightbulb swaying in the chill wind. It was all the same, down to the detail. Roman swallowed. He never imagined he'd end up having to come back here, and every step closer towards the back door made his chest tighten more and more. He stopped when he was a dozen feet from the door, and kept behind a nearby bush. He leaned into his radio. 

“Remy, location?” asked Roman. He waited for Remy's voice to come through the static.

After a moment, he responded in a sing songy voice, “I can seeeeee you~”

Roman squinted and tried to find those tell tale sunglasses that Remy always wore, but he couldn't see anything beyond the door. But after a few moments, he could see Remy inching into the illuminated spot. Roman did the same. Once they were both on either side of the door, Remy made a hand signal with one hand, and got his gun out of his holster in the other: on three.

Roman stopped him with a shake of his head. Instead, he put a finger to his lips. Quiet. Enter quietly. He knew this back part was the part they'd built with their own two hands. The part with some cots in there, which was where they slept when they were on the run, which was all the time. Odds were Adrien wasn't hiding Virgil back there, but he couldn't be sure. So he opted to move in as quietly as possible.

Roman was the first one up at the door. Slowly, he put one hand around the old brass handle. It was freezing, and it was almost like the cold transferred from the handle all the way through him. He tried to ignore it as he twisted the handle and pushed the door open, barely a crack. Just open enough for him to peek inside. The cots were still there. But other than that, the room was empty. He opened it more to see that, thankfully, the door on the other side of the room was closed. The door that led into the part of the shed that was actually a shed.

Once they both were inside, Roman walked up to the other door and pressed his ear against it to listen for any sign of life. It was a few moments before he heard anything, but eventually, a voice came through. It was muffled, but still clear enough to make out the words.

“This isn’t how it’s supposed to fucking go,” the voice said. It was low. Gravelly. Roman had no doubt; it was Adrien. Despite the catch in his throat at hearing it, Roman turned his head towards Remy and made a hand motion that said there was someone on the other side. So many years it had been since he’d heard that voice, and he still knew it when he heard it.

“He can't be dead,” said Adrien. 

Wh- wait.

What?

Despite Roman trying his best to stay quiet, he gasped. Audibly. He could feel himself starting to yell out but he clamped a hand over his mouth to keep from exclaiming.

“All I did was punch him! I didn't-- wake up!” Roman heard a slap. Then nothing. Then Adrien cursed. There were hard footsteps slamming against the wood floor, back and forth.

Roman moved away from the door, trying to keep himself breathing. He turned and looked at Remy. Slowly, he shook his head. He didn't believe it. He just didn't believe it. There was no way.

Remy tilted his head a little. What is it?

There was shuffling on the other side of the door. Roman looked over, and then looked back at Remy. He made the signal. 

Move in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Commmmmmmmmment?


	6. Change of Plans

_“I told you Patton, he LIED to us just to save his boyfriend's ass!”_

_To say that Virgil was mad would be the understatement of the century. He was pacing back and forth across the briefing room, his boots slamming against the ground with an intimidating thunk with every step he took. In his pockets, his hands were clenched in a fist so tight he thought his muscles would lock in that position, and he was breathing so heavy that you could practically see the smoke coming out of his mouth._

_Roman was hovering near the desks, shrunken into himself. He was picking at his cuticles, eyes following as Virgil stomped back and forth. “I didn't lie to you-”_

_“Don't you dare,” said Virgil. He spun around and started towards Roman, but Patton stuck his hand out and stopped him before he too close. “Don't you even dare try to say that you didn't plan this.”_

_“Plan what?”_

_Virgil gestured at the cork board. The lone red pin stuck to it. “This. You're telling me he just conveniently wasn't there the day we all went for the sting? I thought that's where he hid when he was on the run, Roman. Or was that another lie?” His voice was rising higher with every word he spoke. It almost felt as if his throat was closing up, and if he didn't get it all out, he never would. “You've been lying since the beginning!”_

_Patton eased him away from Roman, speaking softly. “I think it would be a good idea to try and calm down, okay?”_

_“No--” Virgil jerked away and went towards Roman again- “You’ve been treating this like a game since day one. Everyone in the precinct knows it.”_

_“Virgil, just try and breathe--” Patton started._

_“I haven't treated it like a game!” Roman moved away from the desks. He was less than a foot away from Virgil. People outside in the bullpen were starting to look. “I gave you all the information you needed. Just because he wasn't there on that particular day doesn't mean I'm lying. I'm trying to help you!”_

_Virgil pulled his hands out of his pockets. Patton rushed forward._

_“I think we all just need to calm down here.” He started to put a hand on Virgil's arm, but he spun around._

_“No, Patton, I want him in jail. That was the deal. Help us catch Adrien, or he ends up in jail!” He looked at Roman once again. His voice started dangerously quiet, but rose to a full on yell by the end. “I'll put you in jail. No, prison. I'll shove you so deeply beneath a prison they'll have to pump sunshine down to you in a tube!”_

_“Knightly!”_

_Virgil snapped his head up to see Carmani standing in the doorway of the briefing room. Virgil instantly paled. Shit. “My. Office,” Carmani hissed._

_Patton immediately walked out of the room towards the office. Virgil and Roman had a bit of a stare down before leaving as well. If he focused, he could almost say that Roman looked scared. As he should be. Virgil probably had the look of murder on his face. As they walked to Carmani’s office, he could feel the burn of all the eyes on his back._

_“Bittender, take Peralta and go. This is a conversation I want to have with just Knightly,” Carmani said, sitting in his chair, shooting a deadly look at Virgil. They both left without a word._

_Virgil stood with his hands behind his back, despite his heart beating out of his chest. “Captain, I--”_

_“Don't you 'Captain’ me. What the hell was that?” He gestured outside. “Do you think this is a playground? High school? What? I'd love to know. What exactly makes you think you can act like a child in front of the whole precinct?”_

_Virgil breathed deep. In. Out. He could feel the burning start on his ears. “With all due respect, sir, I was-”_

_Carmani laughed. A cruel, short laugh. “With all due respect? I'm sorry, what respect are you showing by screaming at your subordinates in the middle of the briefing room? You think that shows respect?”_

_Virgil’s voice was small and quiet. “N-no, sir, but-”_

_“But nothing.” Carmani leaned forward in his chair and put his hands on the table. “You just made a fool out of yourself, me, and this precinct. Do you know that?”_

_Virgil's head fell down. So did his hands. He stood there dumbly, ashamed. “I know. I'm sorry captain. I am. It was a stupid thing to do.”_

_“Damn right it was stupid,” said Carmani. He leaned back, arms crossed over his chest. Though he still looked mad, his voice was the slightest bit softer. “When I heard yelling, I never in my mind thought it would be you.”_

_Virgil looked up. There was a pause. “Why?”_

_Carmani didn't answer for a few moments. He looked Virgil up and down, then out his office window into the bullpen. Roman was sitting on the edge of Patton's desk. They were talking. The rest of the precinct made a point of not trying to look into the office, eyes glued solely to their work; a first. Carmani sighed, and bid Virgil sit down. He did so._

_“Do you know why you became a sergeant?”_

_Virgil opened and closed his mouth a couple times, eyes darting around, clueless. Eventually he shrugged. “I passed the exam?”_

_“Because you're a leader.”_

_At that, Virgil's heart fell from his throat down into his stomach. But it wasn't in a bad way. He couldn't pinpoint the feeling. “I'm a leader,” he echoed. The words didn't quite fit._

_“Every sergeant has to be a leader. Otherwise, your team would fall apart. I think that you're a leader Knightly.” A beat. “But what you just did? In front of everyone? A show of blatant disrespect to not only your new CI, but also to one of your detectives? That was not leadership.”_

_Virgil looked at the ground. He couldn't find any other words to say._

_“Listen,” Carmani said, “I know it’s hard to work with someone you don't necessarily trust. But sometimes we just have to grit our teeth and bear it.”_

_“I know,” Virgil said quietly. “I'm sorry, captain.”_

_Once again, there was a hanging pause. Carmani seemed to be studying him. Then, he said, “And besides, I think I know another reason you don't like him.”_

_“What?” Virgil asked, looking back up._

_Carmani's chair squeaked as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk, hands clasped under his chin. “I think he reminds you too much of yourself.”_

_“Wh-w- what?” Virgil sputtered like he was a car whose transmission was going out. “No he doesn't.”_

_There was a hint of a smile on Carmani's face. “Think about it. Remember yourself fresh out of the academy? I do. You were spunky. Little overbearing. Eager to make a difference. Kind of like Roman.” He gestured out the window, pointing at Roman across the room. “Minus a little extra grandiose. But I think you see it too.”_

_Virgil looked behind himself and glanced at Roman. He turned back. “I- I don't like him because he shot me.”_

_“That may be part of it, but we all get shot by our CI's every once in a while. It comes with the job.” Carmani adjusted his tie. “You have to at least try and treat him a little nicer. Once we solve this Adrien case--and we will--we might need him for other cases. And we can't get him if you scare him away with your terrifying looks.”_

_Virgil half chuckled. Though that might have been out of embarrassment. “You're right,” he said. “I'm sorry. I won't do that again.”_

_“Just give him a chance,” Carmani said as he stood, leading Virgil to the door. “He seems like he's trying to do right. You'll warm up to him eventually.”_

_As he walked out the door, he tried to hold back a scoff. Like that would happen any time soon. But once Carmani’s door shut behind him, he looked out at the bullpen, towards Roman and Patton. Patton was sitting at his desk, typing away at his computer. Roman was sitting on the edge of his desk, chatting with him. Virgil pursed his lips into a tight line; that was exactly how Virgil always sat at Patton's desk nearly every day. One leg hanging, swinging idly. The other tucked underneath, hands propping himself up straight. Roman said something Virgil couldn't hear, and the two laughed._

_In that moment, something sparked up in Virgil's chest. A small, flickering, barely alive ember. Almost immediately, he shoved it down and doused it with water, making his way back to his desk. “Nope,” he whispered to himself. “Nope.”_

_Absolutely not._  
***

Virgil almost made it into a game, despite the obvious life threatening situation.

Like he'd said: Adrien had a play going on inside his head. Act one was getting out of prison. Admittedly, that part was probably the easiest. He had too many connections to not get out of prison. Act two was finding Roman. Well, that part would be completed towards the beginning of act three, because he had to go through Virgil first. But once he found him, he'd commence with act three: killing Virgil in front of Roman. It had to end like that. It couldn't end in any other way. Virgil had to be alive, awake, and terrified by the time Roman got here so Adrien could close the curtain once and for all. It was in the script Adrien had written. It was in the blocking. It had to go perfectly, otherwise, what was the point?

So what Virgil was doing right now was throwing a wrench in all of those plans. Because if Virgil was, say, passed out and/or dead by the time Roman showed up, then the show couldn't go on. So that's what he pretended. Virgil kept perfectly still, head hanging down, body limp and lifeless. He tried to play dead, and for all the planning Adrien did, he got messy when he got frustrated, because he didn't even bother to check Virgil's pulse before assuming he actually _was_ dead. Somehow, he didn't even notice that he was still breathing, which--admittedly--was at least the baseline requirement for someone being alive. But hey, that made it easier for Virgil. 

He was starting to get a crick in his neck, and the wood chair was pressing hard against his tailbone, but he kept still. He couldn't let himself move. Actually, that wasn't the worst of it. What was really hard was keeping his face emotionless, because hearing Adrien curse and mutter under his breath was quite amusing. 

“This isn't what was supposed to happen,” Adrien said to himself. Virgil could hear his boots clacking against the floor, pacing up and down the room with increasing panic. “He's supposed to-- he's supposed to be here before this happens.”

It was almost impossible not to laugh. Adrien was tough, but dumb. All it took was for Virgil to channel some of his high school improv days for him to completely dismantle Adrien's plan. To him, it was all falling apart. But for Virgil, it was going perfectly. He was breaking Adrien down. He was pushing his buttons, edging him closer and closer towards that railing. It was interrogation all over again.

“What do I do?” Adrien asked into the open air. “What the fuck do I do?”

Virgil could feel Adrien get close, so he held his breath momentarily. “Wake up.” He pushed Virgil, poked, prodded him, but Virgil remained still. He walked away, and started pacing again.

“This isn't how it's supposed to fucking go,” he said. 

_That's the point,_ Virgil thought. _Congrats._

“He can't be dead.”

Virgil had to suppress another laugh. _You're more of an idiot than I thought._

Once again, Adrien got close. “All I did was punch him!” he exclaimed to himself. “I didn't-- wake up!” He slapped Virgil. A hard, stinging slap. But still, he did not move. Adrien cussed and started stomp-pacing again, growing more frenzied by the second. The outline of Adrien's hand print pulsed against Virgil's cheek. He fought back yet another smile.

There were a few moments of quiet, where all Virgil could hear was Adrien's frantic pacing. It was almost peaceful.

In the midst of Adrien's panicked breathing and muttering to himself, Virgil's thoughts drifted to Roman. As they so often did when he was in danger. He brought up the last thing they said to each other that he could remember. 

Then, there was a loud banging. There was one, two, three, and then a larger clang.The sound of wood splintering. Something hitting the floor. Roman’s voice. The sound of--

Roman’s voice?

The act slipped away faster than he would like to admit, and Virgil shot his head up. He and Roman locked eyes.

Roman almost dropped his gun. “Virgil?” There was so much pain in his voice. Did Virgil look that bad?

Virgil was about to ask that very question, when he turned and saw Adrien start to reach into his jacket pocket, pulling out something silver and glinting. “Watch out!” shouted Virgil.

He said this because he assumed that Adrien, filled with rage and overcome with confusion, would lunge at Roman and Remy. Instead, he rushed over to Virgil's chair and held the sharp edge of the blade against his throat. With the other hand, he grabbed a fistful of Virgil's hair and yanked his head up so his neck was perfectly exposed to the blade. Virgil fought the urge to struggle. 

“Let him go, Adrien, that won't do you any good,” said Remy.

Roman held his gun steady. There was fire in his eyes. “Let him go, right now.” His arm was unwavering. He wasn't kidding. 

Virgil gave a microscopic shake of the head no. “Don't do that Roman,” said Virgil, strained. He indicated the gun.

“Yeah, don't do that. Roman,” said Adrien.

“I don't have to listen to you,” Roman said to Adrien. His voice was dangerously low. Virgil could tell that he was fighting to keep it steady by the stiffness of his jaw. 

Adrien smiled, and glanced at Virgil. Then down at himself. He nodded his head at the jacket. “Remember this?” he asked of Roman. “You left it behind last time I saw you.”

Roman looked at the leather jacket with contempt. “I grew out of it.” He moved just a bit closer, but stepped back when he saw Adrien steady the knife against Virgil's skin. “Drop the knife Adrien.”

“There's nowhere for you to go,” said Remy. “We have two men out front, and all you have a is a knife. You're cornered.”

“Roman,” Virgil whispered. He glanced at his gun laying on the workman's bench. It was closer to Adrien than it was to Roman. Adrien smirked, following Roman's gaze. 

“I guess I have a little more than just a knife, huh?” said Adrien. It only took an arm's reach to grab it, and he let go of Virgil's hair for long enough to wrap his fingers around the handle. “But as a show of good faith, I'll give it to you anyway.” He dropped the knife on the ground and kicked it over. It hit Roman's boot with a spin. Adrien held the gun to the side of Virgil's head, pressing the cold barrel against his skin.

Roman swallowed hard. His expression turned cold. 

“I’ve waited for this for so long, Roman. You have no idea,” said Adrien. He looked at Virgil. Then at Roman. He didn’t even seem to notice the fact that Remy was in the room. “Or maybe you do. Regardless.” Adrien’s finger hovered over the trigger, inching closer and closer. Virgil refused to close his eyes, and gave Roman a look that he hoped said ‘I love you’.

“Wait,” Roman said. 

Remy gave a side glance at Roman. “Peralta,” he said. There was a warning edge in his voice. 

Roman looked over at Remy, and gestured for him to put his gun away. Remy reluctantly did so. Roman did as well. He held his hands up. “Shoot me instead.”

Adrien all but burst out laughing. “I appreciate you trying to be the hero, but that’s not needed.”

“Yeah,” agreed Virgil, “that’s not needed.” He tried to pull away from Adrien, but his grip was tight. The pulling of his hair kept him still.

“I’ve done much more to you than Virgil has, wouldn’t you think?” He dared to step closer. “I ratted you out, remember?”

“Roman,” Virgil said, voice hoarse, “I think it’s worth noting that I’m your sergeant, and I’m ordering you to stop whatever it is you’re doing.”

Adrien looked at Roman. Then at Virgil. Then at the gun. He looked down at the ground, eyebrows inched together. He seemed to be considering it, but Virgil knew. He knew that Adrien had to finish whatever twisted plan he had inside his head, and it wouldn’t be perfect if he didn’t. This was the only thing that calmed the racing in his heart at the passing thought of Roman getting hurt. If Virgil got hurt, who cared. 

After a small moment, Adrien looked up. He shrugged. “Whatever.” 

He raised the gun and shot Roman. Then he bolted out the back door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heh


	7. One is Too Many

Virgil tried to scream, but no sound came out of his throat. He pulled against his binds so hard he could feel them digging into his skin, thrashing against them until they cut through and his wrists started to bleed. He was kicking, moving, trying to get out of the chair, but he couldn’t. Roman had stumbled back against the wall of the shed, and he slid down, hands holding the upper part of his stomach. There was blood on his fingers.

All he could see was the blood. Roman’s blood. Everything else was fading away as he pulled harder and harder. He needed to get over there. Adrien’s whereabouts didn’t matter. Someone else would take care of it. But who was there to take care of Roman? Why didn’t he vest up? Because Virgil was in danger, and Roman never thought things through all the way, and now he was--

Someone was behind Virgil, cutting his binds with Adrien’s knife. After he was free, he saw out of the corner of his eyes that it was Remy, who bolted out the door afterwards. Virgil practically fell to the floor. His entire body was sore, and his legs were wobbly, but it didn’t matter. He dragged himself over to Roman. All he could hear was Roman's ragged breathing as he looked down at his stomach, then up at his face.

“Roman.” Virgil reached up a shaky hand to his cheek, and Roman grabbed it and held tight. The blood stained both of their hands, and his cheek. It was so hot. It felt like it was burning all the way down to Virgil’s bones. 

“Virgil.” Roman winced, but he didn't look away. 

Virgil pulled away just barely long enough to reach across the floor and snatch his jacket. He then balled it up in the middle, placing it over the wound. Roman cursed, and Virgil tried to calm him as best as he could. The sleeves, he tied around Roman’s waist. Leaning forward to reach behind his back brought Virgil closer to the smell of blood than he would have liked. If there was anything in his stomach right now, he would have felt like he needed to vomit. He could handle regular blood. He saw regular blood every day. But this was Roman’s. And it wasn't supposed to ever, _ever_ be Roman's. Not again.

A few years ago, when Roman was fairly new to the detective unit, he got too eager when going after a perp. Usually, as it went, detectives didn’t usually vest up when they went on cases, because they were usually the ones just trying to solve the case, not chase the bad guy. The beat cops and the patrol officers were the ones who went after people. Roman had forgotten this somewhere along the road one day, because Virgil got a call from the hospital (on one of his precious days off, no less) that Roman had been shot because he was chasing after an armed jewelry store thief. By the time Virgil managed to get to hospital, he had almost ran three red lights, and almost hit two people crossing a sidewalk, he was so frazzled. 

When he rushed into the hospital room, he saw Roman lying still in his bed, and a stone dropped to his stomach. His legs got shaky, and he nearly fell into the chair next to him. He could see blood peeking through a bandage wrapped around Roman’s shoulder, and it felt like he would faint in that moment. Logan was in there, thankfully, and quickly explained that his shoulder was the only place he got shot, and he was unconscious because he had to undergo surgery to get the shrapnel out of his muscle. Virgil was relieved, and pissed.

When Roman finally woke up, Virgil hit him in his good shoulder so hard that he almost called for the nurse. And he made Roman _promise_ that if Virgil had to see Roman’s blood ever again, he’d break up with him. Roman laughed, and said it was part of the job. 

“I-” Virgil pulled back, hand gripping Roman’s. The other was held behind his neck, fingers edging up into Roman’s hair. The back of his neck was sweaty. His hair was soft. The way it always was. He’d always shaved it around the sides, leaving the top curly. Virgil called it peach fuzz. “Why?” he whispered. “Why would you do this?”

Roman smiled, but the corners of his eyes didn’t crinkle the way they usually did. His eyes were shining. He was in so much pain. “You think--” his breath shuddered on the way out-- “You think I’m getting married…by myself?” He tried to chuckle, but it turned into a cough. Roman convulsed in on himself, both hands flying down to his stomach, muttering a curse. 

“You’re so stupid,” Virgil said, voice ragged. He could feel the backs of his eyes burning. “You’re so..” He grabbed Roman’s hands and held them like they were the edge of a cliff. “...fucking stupid Roman.” 

When Virgil looked back up, Roman was staring at him. “I know,” he said. “I just…” He looked down at himself. Then the bind marks on Virgil’s wrists. The bruises blotting his face. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Virgil cussed. “Don’t be sorry, you idiot. I--” He gripped Roman’s hands tighter. A tear fell, and landed in a bloodstain on Roman’s shirt. “I can’t- I thought you’d at least--” He remembered talking to Roman on the phone just a few hours ago. Telling him what was going on. Taunting Adrien about how the Nine-Nine was coming to save him. He thought Roman would at least call Carmani, let him know what was going on. Let him get some gear. “At least vest up.”

Roman let his head fall back against the wall behind him. His breaths were heavy. He was trying to keep them steady. “He was…he was going to hurt you.”

“I'd rather it be--”

“Don't.” Roman interrupted Virgil with a hand on his arm. He balled his fist up in the fabric of Virgil's shirt, gripping a little weaker than usual. “Don't say you'd rather it be you. Just…” He offered a ghost of a smile. “Let me be the hero, for once?”

Virgil smiled back, or he tried to. “I sh- You--” If they weren’t in the situation they were in, Virgil might have hit him. Of all the times to pick to be a hero, he picked now? He started to say this to Roman.

He stopped when he felt something warm touching his knee where he was crouched on the ground. At first, he thought it was just Roman touching him, and thought nothing of it. But when he looked down, he saw that it was blood: a tributary leading from Roman, spreading out around him. In the dim light of the shed, he didn’t realize how much he was actually bleeding, but as he focused, he could see it: Virgil’s jacket was nearly soaked through. Oh, god, what did Adrien hit?

Roman followed Virgil’s line of sight. He looked down at himself. At the red surrounding him. When he looked back up, he looked tired. “He hit something important, huh?” He seemed to answer the question Virgil had silently asked. His voice was small, quiet.

Now that Virgil was focused more, he could see it in Roman’s eyes. The slight gloss over them. When he reached to pull Roman’s hand up against his cheek, there was more weight. Roman was weak. His hands were colder. “Roman,” Virgil said. He tried to keep his voice steady, but the spike of panic was rising in his throat. “Keep your eyes open, alright?”

Roman’s brows inched together, and he shook his head slightly. His movements were cumbersome. “What?” he asked. “They’re…” He trailed off. His arm fell from Virgil’s face. It took him a moment to realize how bad of a shape he was in. Immediately, his breathing became quick, shallow, nervous. “Virgil.”

“Don’t hyperventilate.” Virgil scooted closer. “Breathe regular, okay? It’ll give you some time.” He raised and lowered his hand in a methodical pattern for Roman to follow. Slowly, he went up, and Roman breathed in. When he lowered it, he breathed out. Roman was trying, he was, but Virgil could tell it was getting harder for him to focus on it. “Don't close your eyes. Medical is coming. They're gonna be here and you're gonna be fine.”

Roman tried to nod his head to acknowledge him, but it fell back against the wall, and he swallowed hard. Virgil glanced behind his shoulder. Where the hell was the ambulance? When he turned back around, Roman’s eyes were closed. Virgil’s breath caught in his throat, and snapped his fingers in front of Roman’s face. His eyes opened again, slower this time. “Keep your eyes open, Roman. Open.” Virgil reached a hand up--it was shaking now--and lightly held Roman’s chin up so they were eye level. “Open.” Roman nodded. 

The blood around Virgil’s knees felt like fire eating him alive. Why did it have to be Roman’s? It could have been Virgil’s. “I gotta--” Virgil needed to see where medical was. Surely it couldn’t be too far away. Logan, Patton, Remy--they had to be just around the front. If he could just run out for two seconds, he could ask. But how could he leave? “I have to find, I’ll be--” Virgil looked down at his hand, holding Roman’s so tight that his knuckles were white. Roman barely squeezed back. “I don’t--” He looked up at Roman, whose lids had fallen shut again. He snapped his fingers in front of his face. 

“V…” Roman opened his eyes again, but it looked to take much more effort this time. “Tired.”

Virgil swallowed the growing rock in his throat, feeling his heart trying to break out of his ribcage. “Nope, stay awake. Ambulance is coming.” Roman started to look up at the ceiling, but Virgil reached up with his free hand and held his chin up again. “Keep talking to me. When are we getting married?” Roman didn’t answer. “What’s the date? Come on, what’s the date Roman?”

Roman pursed his lips together. He’d been repeating it for days before this--in whispers as they passed each other in the bullpen, to himself as he typed up paperwork, at home making dinner, in between meetings at work, all the time. The Save the Date was taped to his cubicle. But right now? It was like he couldn't even remember his own name. 

“What’s the date, Roman?” Virgil asked again, voice rising. “When we get married, right? What day? Do you remember the date?” 

“Um…” Roman was trying. Virgil could see it in the way his brows furrowed as he searched his foggy memories for the answer. “Mm...May.” He was fine seconds ago. Minutes. Hours. He was fine. It was all fine. How did he get like this? How? Why? Why would he do this? 

“May, yes, May what? What’s the date?”

“15th.” Roman’s speech was so slurred it was almost unintelligible. 

“May 15th, that’s right.” Virgil kept looking behind his shoulder out the back door, looking for any sign of blinking red lights. Any sign of a siren in the distance. Nothing yet. They had to be close. It was an officer down--they had to be close. Officer down, fiance down, man down, come on paramedics. “What about, um, what- what about- w- what color is my suit, Roman?” He reached a hand behind Roman’s neck and held his head steady. “What’s the color of my suit? Keep talking to me. Don’t stop talking. What’s the color of my suit?”

Roman did not answer. Virgil tried to blink away the tears forming, tried to breathe for lungs that felt like they were about to explode. “Roman!” He was yelling now. “Roman, the color of my suit! What is it?” Just earlier tonight, they were talking about it. Hours ago. How did it feel like years?

“R...red.”

“No, n- it’s purple. It’s purple, Roman, remember?” Roman’s head fell against the wall again, despite Virgil trying to hold it up. The grip on his hand was nearly non-existent. He might as well have put nothing over the wound. He must be bleeding internally. Oh, god. “Roman. Roman! What kind of flowers are we going to have? What kind of flowers?!”

Roman made no inclination of answering. His chest was moving up and down slowly, too slowly. His breaths were too shallow and too far apart. “Roman!” Virgil shook Roman, hard. He took Roman’s face in both hands and held it up. His eyes did not open. “Roman!” Virgil was nearly screaming now, despite his voice feeling like sandpaper. Tears were falling again. “What kind of f- Roman what-” He shook Roman again. Nothing. “Roman, please.”

He leaned forward and kissed Roman. So many times he’d done this to wake him up before he went to make breakfast, or get ready for work, or just because he liked the way Roman smiled a little bit before opening his eyes and throwing his arm around Virgil, returning the kiss. But this time? It was just cold. There was no response.

Still, he tried. He kissed Roman’s lips, his cheeks, everywhere, because for the first time all night, it finally hit him that he may never get to do this again. So even though there was a part of him telling him to stop, stand up, find the EMT, do something, something, _anything,_ he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t do anything but try and find some warmth on Roman’s lips between catching his breath as he sobbed, no longer trying to keep his pounding heart at bay. Please, please, he whispered. Please don't let this be the last time they see each other. Please don't let the reason Roman got hurt because of Virgil. Don't do this, he pleaded. Please.

Please.

Virgil didn’t know how long it was. Probably only a minute, because he had just reached down to grab Roman’s motionless hand again before he could feel someone touch his shoulder. But it felt like years. Decades. Lifetimes. Enough time for the universe to implode in on itself and start over. Enough time to run out of time over and over again.

When he was finally pried away from Roman, he saw that the paramedics had finally arrived. He hadn’t heard the sirens. He hadn’t seen the lights. Patton came inside and started to help Virgil to his feet as they crowded around Roman. They were saying something. What were they saying? Virgil couldn’t hear them. Patton was saying something too. He had one arm around Virgil’s waist and the other brought his arm around Patton’s shoulders. They were walking. Were they walking? Virgil couldn’t feel his feet touching the ground. All he could feel was the cold imprint of Roman’s lips against his own. The burning blood against his knees, soaked through his jeans. When he looked back up at Patton, his face was sympathetic. He was still talking. What was he saying? Where was the sound? For some reason, he could hear marching-- like when he led Roman through the academy. No. It was blood pounding in his ears. It was ringing so loud. It was beating. What was happening?

As he was walked out of the shed--more like carried; Virgil could barely stand upright--his hearing started to fade back in. There was someone screaming. Yelling. Sobbing. Patton’s voice was low and soothing, comforting, it couldn’t have been him doing all that screaming. 

“...get him to the hosp...be okay...calm down...calm down Virgil…” He could only half hear what was being said, but he gathered that he was the one screaming. Logan rushed up to them when they made it outside and put his arm around the other side of Virgil. They were both talking to him now. Their voices meshed together into a wall of white noise. Over, in the front, were the lights. The ringing in his ears was the siren of the ambulance. The police car. Adrien was in the back of the car. He couldn’t be seen, but Virgil knew he was there. Remy was standing beside the car to keep watch of him. His arms were crossed. His sunglasses were hanging off the collar of his shirt. He was staring at the ground. 

Where were they going? When Virgil looked back around, he saw that he was being herded towards an ambulance. He cocked his head to the side. No. It was Roman who needed the ambulance, not him. Not him. He wasn’t the one who got shot. He wasn’t the one who needed help. Help Roman, not him. 

In the back of his mind, he knew he should have gotten checked out too. But that didn’t matter. What were bruises to a gunshot? What were scratches to wounds? Virgil tried to pull away from Logan and Patton. He tried to fight and say something to get them to understand. He wasn’t sure what he was saying, but he could hear something. He was trying to explain that he didn’t need help, it was Roman. Roman needed help. They held him still, and pushed him forward, but they weren’t listening. It was _Roman._ He was the one who got shot. Virgil didn’t get shot. He was supposed to. He was supposed to be the one who got hurt, not Roman. 

It took too long for his hearing to finally come back. For it not to be just his heart beating inside his ear canals. When it did, he was on the ground. Patton and Logan were there too. 

“Roman’s in one already,” he heard Logan saying. When Virgil looked at him, his nose was bloody? Did someone punch him? Was it Virgil? He didn’t remember doing something like that. Even so, his voice was calm. “Roman’s getting helped.”

“Virgil.” Now Patton was talking. Virgil turned his head and saw him. His glasses were skewed. He adjusted them. “Take a deep breath.”

Deep breath? How could he take a deep breath when it felt like he didn’t have lungs anymore? “I…” I can’t, was what he tried to say. But nothing came out. No sound. Patton pursed his lips together. He looked up at someone Virgil couldn’t see. Waved them over. When Virgil turned around, he could see that it was one of the EMT’s. They were pushing a gurney. When Logan and Patton managed to get him up off the ground, he realized they were trying to put him on it. What? Him, on the gurney? He didn’t need a gurney. He didn’t need to go to a hospital! It was Roman who needed help! Did no one understand that? He tried to explain. 

Another EMT came over and they started to grab him by the arms to get him onto the gurney. He pulled away. Struggled. The only person who was allowed to grab him by the arms was Roman and the last time he checked, Roman was in some shed bleeding out somewhere. And it wasn’t supposed to be like that. They were supposed to be at home. He was supposed to be showing Roman his suit. For May 15th. It was purple. Did no one understand this?

Despite his pushing back, they still tried to get him on the gurney. Patton looked sad. Logan had an arm around him, looking down. Was he crying? He tried to see, but Logan’s hair had fallen in front of his face, so he couldn’t be sure. It would be a surprise if he was, because Virgil never saw Logan cry before. The only time he ever saw Logan cry was when--

Something stabbed him in the neck. He cussed, reaching up to grab it, but someone held his arm down. It didn’t feel like a knife, but it hurt. He tried to stand up again, find something to cover it up with, because the last thing the precinct needed was two officers down. One was enough. One was too many. 

Virgil tried to get up again, but it suddenly felt like his body wasn’t working anymore. The world blurred in front of him. An EMT handed something to another--a needle. Did they just inject him with something? Poison? What? He tried to ask, but his mouth wouldn’t form the words. His legs wouldn’t work. They held him and eased him onto a gurney, and despite his wanting to, he was not able to fight back. Despite him trying to say that he didn’t need help, he couldn’t. The world danced in front of him, slowly getting darker, until he couldn’t see anything anymore.

He couldn’t feel anything anymore, and he drifted off into a deep, endless abyss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I know there's a difference btwn a paramedic and an EMT, i just realized this, im sorry, disregard the inconsistency  
> 2\. I know what you're thinking  
> 3\. All I can say is  
> 4\. Don't despair  
> 5\. ;)


	8. Got a Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE: I apologize if this is not easy on the eyes, with the whole chapter being italicized. But for the sake of consistency, I have to make all flashbacks in italics. Usually the chapters are one half memory, and one half present day, but this chapter and the previous were a bit long, so i wanted to separate them. I hope this doesn't make you enjoy it any less!

_Virgil looked across the bar from his place in the corner booth. Logan and Patton clinked their glasses together and and took a celebratory drink. Above them, the hanging banner wavered next to the air vent, strings threatening to fall at any given moment. Maybe scotch tape wasn’t the best idea. In fact, maybe hanging a banner that said “Congrats on the Conviction!” wasn’t the best idea either, but Remy would not let this victory go unrewarded. At least there were no children around. Though, the suspiciously short couple that entered a few minutes ago made sure their totally-not-at-all fake ID’s were visible at all times. So Virgil couldn't be too sure at this point. He rolled his eyes and took a long drink from his glass as the two slid into a booth, giggling._

_The second sting had been successful; There was much more planning that went into it this time. They’d caught Adrien red handed--his car was full of stolen money, along with enough cocaine to take down a mammoth, which was a nice touch. It was easy to take him down once he got there, since he was asleep when they showed up. Yes, he did put up a fight, but Virgil was determined to get him in jail, and his efforts were fruitful. He was convicted almost immediately, and it was made public so the city could know that one of the most dangerous people on the streets had been taken down._

_Remy suggested they throw a little party at Ciro’s bar. Virgil was halfway excited to go and relieve some of his built up stress, but when Roman was invited to go and celebrate along with the rest of the team, his enthusiasm almost nearly vanished._

_Don’t get him wrong, Virgil had started to come around to Roman since Carmani’s conversation that day. He eased up with the aggressiveness. And instead of berating Roman every time he made a mistake--a common occurrence--he tried to correct it in an educational way, the way he would with one of his detectives. It was an everyday battle, fighting his instinct to distance himself from Roman. It was a frustrating process to ignore his compulsion for theatrics too, but Virgil had managed. He’d even managed to have a few normal conversations with him in the bullpen, among talking about the case._

_Turned out, Roman actually was into theatre. However, his criminal status didn’t exactly permit him to go out and perform. Virgil talked about how he used to be a stage manager when he was in college, before he realized he wanted to be a cop. They both enjoyed the same type of music, which was a surprise, since they seemed to be polar opposites of each other. Virgil was dark, brooding, not very friendly. Roman was loud, obnoxious, colorful. It was a wonder Virgil had energy to go home and make dinner every night after having to interact with someone like him. Patton was bad enough._

_But it was fine. Roman was fine. In fact, maybe he was a little more than fine. But each time a word other than ‘fine’ (in the most neutral possible context) popped up in Virgil’s head, he stuffed it back down into a dark and unreachable place. It started a while ago, and had started to happen more frequently. Once, Virgil looked at him from across the bullpen, and for some reason he thought: ‘he’s kind of pretty’. When Virgil caught himself thinking that, he had to stand up and go splash some water on his face._

_Usually, he had no qualms about complimenting those around him--at least inside his head. He felt that Logan was handsome. Patton was cute. Remy was fierce. But he didn’t want to think that way of Roman. Roman shot him. He was still technically a criminal; that was, until the expunging papers went through. Roman had helped Adrien rob helpless people, and now he was just going to get away with it scott free? It still irked Virgil. Actions had to have consequences, didn’t they?_

_Plus, Virgil felt something weird whenever he thought of Roman as anything other than ‘fine.’ He couldn’t pinpoint what that feeling was. And when he didn’t understand a feeling, he figured it was better to stop feeling it. He was too busy to sit down and contemplate which feeling meant what. So he ignored it. It was better to ignore it. But it was much easier to do so when he wasn’t around Roman, so he’d rather not have to share the bar space with him. Especially Ciro’s. Was no place sacred?_

_As Virgil idly sipped his drink, watching everyone else have a good time, he spotted Roman chatting with Carmani. It was rare that the captain went out with the precinct for a drink, but he must have felt especially congratulatory tonight. Virgil couldn't hear what they were saying, but they seemed to share a laugh. Roman must have really been charming him up, because the last time Virgil saw Carmani laugh was when, after the floors had been freshly waxed, a perp tried to make a break for it while being led to the holding cell and face planted in front of his office._

_After their conversation seemed to end, Roman leaned in to say something, and Carmani started to look around. Their eyes briefly locked, and then he pointed in Virgil's direction. Roman turned around, and when he spotted Virgil, he started over._

_Virgil sighed, and downed a huge swig of his drink. This ought to be good._

_When Roman neared, he flashed an amicable smile before sliding into the other side of the booth. A colorful drink filled with limes and topped off with a silly straw was clasped in both hands. He drummed his fingers on the side of the glass, as if searching for something to say. Well, it wasn’t like Virgil was going to begin the conversation, since he wasn’t the one who waddled up to someone else’s table unprompted._

_After a brief pause, Roman brought the straw up to his lips and said, “Why so down, Charlie Frown?” before taking a sip._

_Virgil scoffed, bringing his own glass up to take a drink. “We’re barely on a first name basis, you don’t get to call me nicknames yet.” He tilted his head back as the last of the drink slithered down his throat. It had gone flat, he’d been nursing it for so long._

_Roman’s eyebrows went up. “So you’re saying there’s a point where I CAN call you nicknames?”_

_Virgil swallowed. “Maybe when you become a cop and have known me for 20 something years, like Patton, who’s the only one allowed to call me by anything other than ‘Virgil’, ‘Knightly’, ‘sergeant’, or ‘hey you’.” Roman snickered, and took another sip of his drink. Virgil nodded his head towards it. “What do you have there? Is that something they serve?”_

_“Oh, no,” Roman said. “I basically asked them to serve me sugar syrup in a cup. No alcohol, I don’t drink.”_

_“But you rob people,” Virgil mumbled. When he looked up from his empty glass and saw Roman’s face, he corrected himself by saying, “Sorry, that just came out. I didn’t mean that.”_

_“Yes,” Roman said, lightly chuckling, “you did, but it’s fine. I’ll let it slide.” He turned around and looked at the sign hanging in the middle of the bar. “Speaking of burglaries, shouldn’t you be over there celebrating with everybody else? Taking down Adrien was a big bust, I’m sure.”_

_Virgil shrugged. “Eh, we take down criminals all the time. I never really saw the point in throwing a party over one.”_

_“Well, doesn’t it feel good when you take down a bad guy? Get some sicko off the streets?”_

_“I mean, yeah.” Virgil ran his finger around the rim of his empty glass to give his hand something to do. “Why wouldn’t it?”_

_“So why don’t you let yourself celebrate from time to time? It’s not a crime to be proud of yourself.” Roman took another long sip from his drink. Virgil watched the liquid do loop de loops and 90 degree angles before making its way up past Roman’s lips._

_“Too busy to be celebrating all the time. If we’re not taking one guy off the streets, we’re taking another. We work more than one case at a time, you know. Crime isn’t exactly convenient to monitor.”_

_Roman looked around. “Are you solving a crime right now at this very moment?”_

_Virgil pursed his lips together. “Watch the sarcasm, Peralta.”_

_“I’m serious, just humor me. Are you working on a case right now?” He swirled his glass around, the ice making a tinkling sound._

_Virgil looked down at his empty glass, then lifted it up to see the ring under it that was bound to stain the table. He set it back down. Looked up at Roman. “No, I’m not working on a case right now.”_

_“What do you have to do after this? List it for me. What time is it now--” He slid his phone out of his pocket and checked the time-- “11 pm? What are you doing after this?”_

_If not for the alcohol in his system, he probably would’ve gotten up and walked out. Unfortunately for him, he was a lightweight. “Uh, well, I’m going home, I’m taking a shower, I’m probably going to eat something, and I’m going to bed.”_

_Roman counted on his fingers as Virgil listed his activities. Once Virgil was done, he held up his four fingers. “So this is all you have to do, all night. Four whole things. None of which are case related. So…” He leaned forward a little bit, as if he were sharing a secret. “You can take ten, twenty seconds, right now, and enjoy your victory. You are not too busy, right now, to celebrate just a little bit.” He picked up his glass and held it in the air, towards Virgil. “Come on, cheers with me.”_

_Virgil looked at his empty glass. Then back up at Roman._

_“I know it’s empty,” said Roman, “I don’t care. Clink with me.” Virgil didn’t move. “Come on. Clink.”_

_“Are you being serious?”_

_“Are you not getting a serious vibe from my silly straw right now? Clink!”_

_Virgil’s face twisted up the slightest bit at Roman’s ridiculous request, and looked back down at his glass. Then back up at Roman, who was still holding his cup in the air. He was smiling. Was this stupid gesture supposed to make him any more enthused about the ‘party’ than he was before? Roman wiggled his glass, as if to say: ‘well?’_

_Eh, screw it. He picked up his empty glass and held it in the air too, clinking with Roman’s glass in a celebratory fashion. “Eeey!” Roman exclaimed, taking a drink. “Cheers! There we go!”_

_Virgil half smiled, and made a show of raising the glass to his lips and pretending to take a drink. Roman laughed, and something popped up inside Virgil’s chest again. He pushed it down quickly, setting his cup down a little harder than he meant to. He shot you, Virgil reminded himself. “That was stupid,” he said._

_Roman shrugged. “Yeah, but who cares? You need a break from the doom and gloom every now and then, don’t you?”_

_“I guess.” Virgil looked down at the table. He focused on a crumpled up napkin for a little too long before he noticed the growing silence between them. The sound of other conversations around them seemed to amplify the fact that they weren’t talking. A little too suddenly, Virgil stood up. “Listen, I think I’m gonna head out. The leftover mac and cheese I have at home is calling my name.”_

_Roman stood too. “You’re not going to drive, are you?”_

_Virgil had reached into his pants pocket and had his hand fisted around his keys, but then he looked over at the empty glass sitting on the table. He let go of the keys. “No, I guess not.”_

_“I can drive you home.”_

_Virgil’s breath caught, and he grabbed his jacket from the booth and threw it over his shoulder. He’d rather get shot than show Roman where he lived. “Nope, no I’ll catch an Uber or something.” He started to walk towards the door on the other side of the bar. Roman followed him, much to his annoyance. He passed Carmani as he went, who was sitting up at the bar counter. He turned around when he saw Virgil approaching._

_“Hey, Knightly,” said Carmani. Virgil stopped, which gave Roman ample time to catch up with him. “Leaving already? You’re the one who brought him down with the final tackle, as I’m told. This party’s partly for you.”_

_Virgil put on his friendly face, and turned to Carmani. “Well sir, I’ve never been one for parties. I wanted to head home and get some sleep before tomorrow. Got an early shift.”_

_Carmani raised his glass to Virgil, when he noticed Roman sidling up beside him. He gestured towards Roman. “And what did you think about your CI’s brilliant idea?”_

_“Brilliant idea?”_

_“Oh, actually,” said Roman with a finger in the air, “I didn't tell him yet.”_

_Virgil looked at Roman. “Tell me what?”_

_Carmani stood up from his stool at the counter and put a hand on Virgil's shoulder. “I'll leave you two alone,” he said, before walking away towards Patton and Logan._

_“Well…” Roman shifted his weight from foot to foot, holding his drink with both hands as Virgil turned to face him._

_“Well?” asked Virgil._

_Roman chuckled nervously, eyes looking anywhere but at Virgil. “Well, um, I don’t know if you know this, but-- I mean, of course you wouldn’t know this, but...in college, before um, well, before I met Adrien and...all that happened I… I was training to...to become a cop.”_

_At this, Virgil snickered. He stuck his hands in his pockets. Well, wasn't that ironic? “That's an interesting little tidbit of your life Roman. Truly, it is, but what does that have to do with me?”_

_“Um...well…?” Roman took a huge sip from his drink, enough that he drank the rest of it, and his straw started making slurping sounds. “I...this whole Adrien case got me thinking...it got me...you know, wondering….about...certain things, and I just wanted to know, if, um…”_

_Virgil cocked his head to the side a little at what Roman was saying. But when it finally hit Virgil, it hit him hard. He took a step back, pulling his hands out of his pockets. “You are not telling me you want to be a cop. Peralta, that is not what you're telling me.”_

_Roman looked up at Virgil. He seemed to shrink into himself. He shrugged. “Uh-- w-what if...what if that was what I was telling you?”_

_“Oh my god.” Virgil’s head flew back and he laughed towards the ceiling. “You can NOT be serious. You-- I don’t understand why you would even think of--”_

_“Well, I’ve wanted to be a cop since I was a kid, actually. I just, was never able to do it once this whole thing started.” Roman half chuckled, trying to lighten the newly formed tension. “You can’t exactly...stop crime if you’re the one...committing the crime, right?”_

_Virgil was dumbstruck. He stood there, searching Roman’s face for any hint of a joke. Some sly smirk, some half step, some inkling of him not being serious. But there was nothing. Roman stood there, face turning red, leaning against the bar counter, arms folded over his chest, and Virgil knew he was telling the truth. In his head, he was begging for it to be some kind of stupid theatrical method acting scene, but in his heart, he knew it wasn’t. Roman the bank robber, the shooter, the criminal, wanted to become a cop._

_He searched for some reason to shut Roman down. “You can’t-- become a cop with a felony on your record,” Virgil said._

_“Once the paperwork goes through,” replied Roman, “I can go through the academy to be a police officer. I’m aiming to be a detective though.”_

_Immunity. Damnit. Virgil almost hoped that Carmani was lying when he promised that to Roman in exchange for the information that brought Adrien down. But of course, Carmani always kept his word-- the bastard. “You have to…” He wracked his brain for something discouraging. “You have to have a college degree to be a detective.”_

_“I have one.” Roman smiled a little. “Criminal justice. Bachelor’s.”_

_“You’d have to get promoted from within the department. You really want to be a beat cop for the rest of your life if your commanding officer doesn’t notice you?” With this, Virgil thought he’d gotten him, because Roman looked at the floor after having heard this. But alas no dice. Roman had an answer for even this._

_“I’m applying to the 99th precinct. Carmani...said he’d be watching for me.”_

_Virgil’s eyes widened. Involuntarily, his hands balled into fists at his sides, and he stuffed them in his pockets. “You’re kidding.” Roman shook his head. “So you steal 100 grand worth of other people’s money, and you get promoted to detective because you showed us where a shed was?”_

_Roman opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He lowered his head. Virgil turned his head and saw Carmani standing next to Logan, who seemed to be talking his ear off. Virgil walked over to him--actually, more like stomped._

_“Captain?”_

_Carmani turned around, and Logan stopped his spiel. He seemed grateful to get out of that conversation. “Knightly,” said Carmani. “Heading home now?”_

_“You’re encouraging Roman to become a cop? You’re endorsing him?” Virgil had to catch himself. He could feel anger rising in his throat, along with something else rising in his chest. He took a deep breath. “You’d let him in the Nine Nine knowing the crimes he’s committed?”_

_Carmani straightened, giving Logan a side glance. Logan got the message quickly, and walked away to lecture a different group. He crossed his arms, and said, “I never said I’d let him in. I said I’d be watching for him.”_

_“That kind of sounds like special treatment.” Watch yourself, Virgil reminded himself. He backed off. “I...I just don’t understand why we’d let a criminal into the precinct, sir.”_

_“Well, once the paperwork goes through, Peralta’s record will be squeaky clean. He could be a cop, detective, FBI, President if he wanted to. He’d have the same status as a normal citizen with no criminal record.” He must have read the look on Virgil’s face, because he then said, “Nothing you can really do about it, Knightly. I know you aren’t exactly his biggest fan, but he did his part for this city.”_

_“He robbed this city,” said Virgil. He could almost feel Roman staring at him from behind._

_“He held up his end of the deal, we have to hold up ours. Isn’t that how fairness works?” Carmani took a sip of his drink. “We can’t stop him if he wants to protect the people, Knightly.”_

_Virgil searched for some kind of retaliation. He searched his brain for some kind of obscure law somewhere that they forgot to strike that would prevent Roman from becoming a cop. He tried to think of some possible way to convince Carmani, but there was nothing. There was nothing he could do about it. Carmani was right. If Roman wanted to be a detective, he could. And if he wanted to be part of the Nine Nine, he could. And if he was part of the Nine Nine, then Virgil would have no choice but to call him one of his detectives._

_Virgil held his keys in his pockets, running his finger over the teeth of one of his mail keys. “Doesn’t mean I have to like him,” he said._

_Carmani scoffed. He peered over Virgil’s shoulder, probably at Roman. “You’ll warm up to him, I’m sure.” He started to walk away, but as he passed Virgil, he put a hand on his shoulder and leaned in. “Though,” he said quietly, “I’m pretty sure you already have.” He raised his glass. “Clink.” He winked._

_Virgil turned around and watched him walk away, words struck dead in his mouth. He watched Carmani nod his head towards Roman before going to socialize with someone else. Roman briefly looked after Carmani, but then turned towards Virgil again. When they locked eyes, Virgil almost felt as if his heart skipped a beat, and he turned sharply towards the door._

_As he pulled his phone out of his pocket to order an Uber, he could feel his face going hot despite the chill of the night wind. ‘Though, I’m pretty sure you already have.’ What the hell did that mean?_

_When Virgil placed the order, he swallowed. He knew what it meant._


	9. Waking Up

Nightmares. The whole time, it was nightmares. Replaying in Virgil’s head over and over again. Whatever they had injected him with made it impossible to pull himself out of his dreams, so he was stuck. He was at his mind's mercy. And his mind was not merciful. The whole time he was out, all he did was see them, again and again.

In one of them, Virgil was standing over Roman’s casket. He was wearing the wedding dress. But instead of looking clean, and asleep--the way embalmers usually made dead bodies look--he was covered head to toe in blood, soot, and dirt. Like he’d been dug up from a grave site. In another, Virgil was chasing Adrien down a dimly lit street, cornering him in an alleyway and shooting him. But when Virgil neared him, he saw that it was actually Roman he shot, and his eyes were wide open, staring up at Virgil with a pleading look on his face. In yet another, he drowned in a pool of Roman’s blood. Then he watched Roman jump off a building. Then he saw Adrien kidnap Roman, killing him before Virgil got a chance to save him. Then they got in a fatal shootout with some faceless criminal. So many ways he saw Roman die in his nightmares. And no matter how hard he cried, or how loud he screamed, no one came to wake him up.

The only thing that did wake him up was the smell. In one of his nightmares, he was in the shed. Adrien’s shed. But no one else was there. It was only him, and he was standing in an inch of stagnated blood. He didn’t know who’s it was, but it stained everything: the walls, the furniture, the lightbulb, his clothes. It was all over everything. Virgil breathed in deep, and expected the smell of rot and copper, but was instead met with...something that smelled a bit like bleach. What?

It was this that brought him out of unconsciousness. He breathed in again, and he opened his eyes. 

Bright lights greeted him, and he tried to bring his arm to shield his eyes, but stopped when he felt a pull against his wrist. He looked over and saw that he had an IV in his arm. The tube led up to an almost empty bag of clear liquid that rested on an IV pole next to his bed. 

Looking down at himself, he saw that he was on a bed, covered in a white hospital blanket. There was beeping in the distance. A TV mounted to the wall across the room was playing a documentary about space at a low volume. Next to him, a chair was sitting facing Virgil, but it was empty, save for a crumpled blanket piled on the seat. On top of the blanket was a book lying open, face down. To the left, there was a doorway leading out into a hall. He could hear chatter from this person or that person, but nothing that Virgil could clearly make out. To his right, there was a large window, in which rays of sunlight flowed through. Was it sunrise or sunset? Virgil couldn't tell. 

He was in the hospital. His brows furrowed, and he looked around for some kind of call button. He shouldn’t be here. Virgil didn’t remember calling an ambulance for anything. The last thing he remembered, actually, was being in the shed with Adrien, and Roman--

Oh, god. Virgil gasped as he was hit with the memories. Roman. The blood. The shot. The whole thing gut punched him like he was experiencing it all over again. Where was Roman? Was he okay? Were they able to save him? Was he even--?

Virgil swallowed, and tried to fight welling tears, when he heard footsteps approaching from the hallway. He wasn’t sure what made him do this, but he closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. For some reason, he expected Adrien to walk through the door, trying to finish what he started. In the logical part of his brain, he knew it couldn't have been. But in the anxious part, he wasn't able to help himself.

The footsteps turned into Virgil's room, and he realized that it was two people walking. They stopped near Virgil's bed. He leveled his breathing, and kept himself still. He braced himself for...he didn't know what, exactly.

“If you want to stay with your other friend, I can have someone in here with Mr. Knightly so he isn't alone when he wakes up,” said a voice. It was feminine. Clipped. Sympathetic. Professional. A nurse perhaps?

“No, it's okay,” replied another voice. It was Logan’s. Despite having felt frozen in place, Virgil now softened the strain on his muscles. It wasn't Adrien coming back to finish anything. Of course it wasn't. It was just Logan and a nurse, conversating about Virgil's well being. “One of our others is in there: Detective Bittender? So, I’ll stay here. I want to be in in the room when he wakes up. To let him know that Roman’s okay.”

Virgil's breath caught in his throat, and he tried to normalize it so no one noticed. He didn't realize until he stopped doing it that his jaw was clenched so tight he may have broken teeth. His heart slowed its rapid beating. The fire from his muscles faded. Roman was okay. He was okay. If not for him pretending to be asleep, he would've started bawling his eyes out on the spot.

The nurse didn't say anything else, but Virgil assumed she nodded, and walked off. Only one set of footsteps was heard going out of his room, so Logan must have still been there. Virgil swallowed hard, and opened his eyes. They were already shining.

Logan was standing over Virgil's bed. His shirt was wrinkled, and his tie was gone. His hair wasn't slicked back the way it usually was when he was at work. The skin around his nose was purple and bruised, and there was a scrape on the side of his forehead. He looked tired. But when he saw Virgil, his hardened frown softened just the slightest bit.

“You're awake,” said Logan. It wasn't said with any surprise; just said as more of a statement than anything else. He probably knew as soon as he walked in the room that Virgil was faking. Still, there was some relief laced with his exhaustion. “I’m glad.”

“Roman’s okay.” Virgil meant to give Logan some sort of greeting. Maybe ask him for some water, because he felt as if his throat had been replaced with a cactus. Maybe even ask about the bruises on Logan’s face. But all he could say was, “Roman’s okay.” It didn’t feel true. It felt like he had to say it over and over again until his voice gave out for it to be true. 

Logan was looking down at him, and he smiled slightly. He nodded. “He will be.” He turned around and grabbed the book from off the seat of the chair. On the windowsill, he grabbed a bookmark and slid it in to mark his page. Then he set it, closed, on the sill. He cleared his throat. “The uh, the shot clipped his spleen. It ricocheted off of one of his ribs, and the shrapnel hit his diaphragm. There was a lot of internal bleeding.” He said all this matter-of-factly, as if he had rehearsed it. He probably did, since he was likely to know that as soon as Virgil woke up, he’d be wondering what happened. He was right. But then again, he was rarely wrong. “He got out of surgery a few hours ago.”

Virgil watched as Logan lightly paced back and forth around his bed. “They almost lost him, didn't they?” asked Virgil. He remembered how much Roman had bled. All around him, staining his clothes, his hands. Despite all that, Roman was bleeding on the inside too.

Logan pursed his lips together, and looked sympathetic. He shook his head. “But they didn't. It'll… be a while, I think, before he's 100 percent again.” He slid in the chair, scooting it closer to Virgil's bed. The blanket, he pushed out of the way. “But he’ll be alright. He’s tough. Like you.”

Virgil didn’t say anything back right away. He had to let Logan’s words sink in for a few moments as he laid there and stared at the ceiling. The fluorescent lights above his bed blinked intermittently. He breathed in, let it out slow, willed his tears not to spring up. He looked at Logan. “Good,” he said, nodding. “That’s good.” He was too tired to think of a word other than good, but ‘good’ was the understatement of the century.

“And, uh, how are…” Logan adjusted himself in his seat, tucking one leg under the other. “How are you doing, Virgil?”

“I’m uh…” Virgil looked down at himself. He wiggled his toes; his legs weren’t broken. He wiggled his fingers; neither were his arms. He noticed just then that his head was pounding--a dull thud against the side of his head. But other than that? He felt fine. “I’m not really sure why I’m...here, to be honest. I mean, I didn’t- I didn’t get hurt, you know?” It was Roman who needed the hospital, not him. 

When he looked back up, he saw that Logan had stood up again. He half chuckled. “Virgil, I-- you were hysterical, I mean…” He crossed his arms over his chest, staring at the ceiling briefly before continuing. “For good reason, of course, it was just…” He seemed to be searching for what to say. “Frightening. N-not to mention that you were severely dehydrated, had head trauma, a definite concussion, cuts, bruises, scrapes, I mean--” He let his arms fall, a small smile on his face-- “you really should see your face right now. You look terrible.”

Virgil scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Thanks. I feel about the same.” He and Logan shared a smile, then Virgil cleared his throat. Gestured to his nose. “How did, uh...did...did I..?”

Logan nodded, looking a bit guilty. “It’s fine. I’m surprised you even remember that happening.”

“I- I don’t, I just…” Virgil remembered a struggle, and then being on the ground. He saw Logan’s nose, bleeding, and he vaguely remembered wondering how it got that way. “I just remember you, uh…on the ground, and, I…” He sighed. “I was out of it, man. I’m- I’m sorry, Logan.”

“It’s nothing. It was a...tough situation.”

There was a slight pause between the two of them, and in the background, the documentary turned into an infomercial for a vacuum cleaner. Apparently, the new model had a detachable hose to clean stairs with. The sun outside started to dip. It must be the evening.

Virgil swallowed. “Adrien?” Even saying his name felt like fire on his tongue.

“Being processed as we speak,” said Logan, sitting down once again. This time he threw the blanket over his legs. “Kidnapping, assault of an officer, attempted murder, felony possession of a firearm, parole violation, the list goes on. He’ll be in for the rest of his life.”

“What’ll stop him from getting out the way he did last time?” The tenseness in Virgil’s shoulders started to come back involuntarily. He realized he’d been clenching his jaw again, and he tried to relax it.

Logan seemed to smile the smallest bit as he reached up to adjust his glasses. He winced slightly, nicking his nose. He rubbed it gently as he said, “Actually, turns out, he had an old warrant out for an aggravated assault up in Colorado. Nearly 10 years old now, before everything else that happened. So…”

“Extradited?”

Logan nodded. “Extradited. It took some major sleuthing on Patton’s part to find that warrant, so, thank him.”

Virgil breathed out a sigh of relief before he even realized he was doing it. His breath came out shaky. “Alright, uh...good. Good. How is- how is Patton, by the way?” He meant with what happened. He must have scared Patton to death with how he acted when they were trying to get him in the ambulance. 

“He was shaken up, naturally. But, he’s fine. Not hurt. He’s sitting with Roman.”

“When can I get out of here, speaking of?” asked Virgil. He was itching to see how Roman was. Every moment away from him made Virgil antsy. He needed to see for himself that Roman was okay. He would not be satisfied until he did.

Logan probably already knew this. “As I mentioned, you came in here dehydrated--which, can I add, was not just due to the whole debacle. You really need to drink more water, Virgil.”

Virgil rolled his eyes again. “That’s Sergeant to you, Holmes.”

“Anyway,” Logan continued, smirking, “That’s really the only reason you’re still here. That IV--” he gestured to it-- “is to rehydrate you. Once that’s done, you can check out.” The unsaid statement shone clearly in his face. _You can go see Roman._

Virgil glanced up at the bag. It was nearly empty already. So he’d be out very soon. He turned back to Logan. “Is he awake?”

Logan shook his head. “No, not yet. They were working on him for...a long time. Nearly half a day. So, he'll probably be asleep until tomorrow.”

Virgil swallowed. “But he's okay.”

“Yes, he’s okay.”

Another pause between them. Virgil idly stared at the TV as the infomercial played, now showing the power of the various attachments the vacuum came with.

As he stared, his mind kept flashing back to the shed. How he had teased Adrien, taunted him, threatened him, acted like it was some kind of game. He held back laughter at Adrien’s growing anger, when instead he should have been scared. What an idiot he was, not taking into consideration the effect the years had had on Adrien. Because Virgil thought he had him pegged: he had a plan, and nothing could change the plan. The plan had to go perfectly. But Virgil was wrong. He wasn’t the same person he was 8 years ago. He was different. Erratic. Messy. That gasp Virgil heard when he first announced himself by the tux place? That was Adrien not expecting it to be so easy. That was a hiccup in the plan. But he didn’t care about the plan anymore, did he? As soon as he saw Roman, it was all over, there was no plan. Because it barely took any convincing for him to turn the weapon on Roman instead of Virgil. He knew he was going to go back to prison, but he didn’t care. He just wanted his revenge, and it didn’t matter on who.

Virgil should have been more careful. He should have been more noticing of his surroundings. They must have been following him that night, but that was likely not the first time they had. He should’ve caught it. Seen something. Heard something. Been more protective. Kept his guard up. He was so stupid for investigating the sound he heard in the first place. He should have just gotten in his car and gone home to his fiance where everything was fine and they were getting married on May 15th, and his suit was purple, and the flowers were--

He hadn't realized he'd been tearing up until he felt something on his cheeks. He sniffled, and a shaky breath escaped him. Logan looked up from where he had pulled his phone out to text somebody. But as soon as he saw what was happening, he slid his phone back in his pocket. He kind of hovered for a moment, unsure of what to do, since he was never good at dealing with unexpected emotions--Virgil knew this. Nearly everyone in the precinct knew it, in fact. Still, he tried to comfort Virgil by reaching over and taking his hand. Virgil had no qualms about grabbing it back, now not trying to hold his tears in.

They stayed like that for a bit. Logan didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Neither did Virgil. They just sat like that until Virgil decided to pull away. The infomercial turned into one of those cheesy, badly filmed cop shows, and it made Virgil scoff despite his tears. Logan turned to look at it.

“Wish that was the reality, hm?” asked Logan. Virgil just half smiled, and shook his head. 

“Hey,” Virgil said, looking up at the now empty IV bag. He sniffed, and continued, “That’s empty.”

Logan looked up. “Oh, is it?” When he saw it too, he stood from his chair. “Well then, I’ll get the nurse.” He started towards the door, but as he reached the doorframe, he stopped, and turned around. He adjusted his glasses, and rested a hand on the doorframe before saying, “Roman...is going to have to take a while off of work.”

Virgil looked down, feeling a pit drop in his stomach. He nodded. He knew that

“And--” Logan looked down briefly, and Virgil could see that he was picking at his cuticles-- “I think, maybe…” He looked back up. “Maybe you should take some time off too.” Virgil opened his mouth to protest, but Logan put his hand up to stop him. “I know you aren’t seriously injured Virgil. I know. But that’s only physical. I…” He sighed. Concern was clear in his voice. “I just think taking a break from...uh…” He glanced at the police show playing on the TV, and he vaguely gestured to it. “From everything...being able to spend some time with Roman...I think it would be a good idea.”

With that, Logan turned around and left, and Virgil was left floundering for some kind of retort. But he came up with nothing, and sat there in a half stunned silence waiting for the nurse to come and detach his IV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told you all not to despair, didn't i? :)


	10. Is That A Yes?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, for consistency, flashbacks are going to be italicized. i think when im done with this story ill go back and undo them all, and just put in the notes that its a flashback, but as of right now, they'll stay like this till the end of the story. dont forget to leave a comment!

_(4 years earlier)_

_“Virgil? I need help.”_

_“How the hell did you get this number?”_

_It was midnight. Virgil was at work. But what else was new?_

_A couple of weeks ago, a string of home invasions had started plaguing Tampa, so he and his team had been pulling all nighters for a while now. In this most recent robbery, someone got hurt, so they were doubling up on patrols, work, investigations, and the like. Which meant a nice, juicy amount of paperwork. Usually, Virgil liked to be out on the field with cases like these, but there were already a precinct’s worth of officers working this case, so he decided to stay at the office and do the paperwork so they could focus on the home invasions._

_The phones never really rang this time of night, so when his desk phone started blaring its shrill sound, he thought that one of his officers got hurt. He picked up the phone, a spike in his stomach. But then Roman’s voice came through the line. It almost made Virgil fall out of his chair._

_“I need help with the academy,” said Roman on the other line. He sounded tired. Virgil could sympathize. “It’s absolutely killing me.”_

_“I ask again, how did you get this number?”_

_“From when I was a CI.”_

_Virgil paused. Some hopeful part of him figured that Roman would discard the number once the Adrien case was over, but no dice. Though, it wasn’t like he was surprised._

_This wasn’t the first time he’d heard from Roman after the case ended. He came to the office nearly every day, because he and Logan and Patton and Remy started to become friends. They would joke around, and go to lunch together, and Virgil had just about had enough. All this friendliness had started to give him a bad taste in his mouth._

_It wasn’t because he was being left out, mind you. They had invited him--well, Roman had invited him--to most every outing they had. And Virgil constantly turned it down. He made an excuse nearly every time: he had overtime, he was working on a case, he was doing some paperwork, he was ill, he had jury duty, and so on. Though it was clear to Logan, Patton, and Remy that he was fronting, Roman at least pretended to understand._

_It wasn’t like he didn’t want to hang out with his friends. It was more like he didn’t want to hang out with Roman._

_Since the bar, Virgil had been doing more and more to avoid Roman, because he couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt he had whenever he thought about ‘it’. When he thought about what actually WAS buried deep underneath his chest, the feelings that he tried to ignore at night before he slept. And when he woke up. And when he ate lunch. And when he was briefing his team on who covers what case in the mornings. And basically all the time._

_Oh, what were those feelings, you ask? Oh, you know, just casually wanting to hold Roman up against a wall and kiss him and maybe have a candlelit dinner with him._

_Virgil groaned into his hand with the phone still pressed against his ear, wanting to kick himself for letting that image invade his mind again. “Rom- Peralta, I really don’t know what I’m supposed to do to help you with the academy. I can’t give you answers to tests since I know them all, and for the exercise...you’ve done enough running in your time, haven’t you?”_

_There was a scoff on the other line. “Do you mean running from police?”_

_Virgil tried to hide the smile that tugged against his lips, though there was no one in the room to see him besides Carmani, who was asleep in the break room. He silently cursed himself for having the audacity to smile at all. “I guess. What exactly do you want?”_

_“I need help.” Roman sounded breathless, exhausted. “I’ve been trying and trying and trying and I just- I keep coming up short.”_

_“In what, exactly?”_

_“In everything!” Roman exclaimed. “I'm constantly coming up short in my times, I'm not getting enough time to study, and I just keep falling behind! Captain says if I keep going the way I am, she's going to kick me out!”_

_The first thing Virgil felt when Roman said that was relief. He wouldn't have to deal with Peralta’s antics, or his jokes, or his face, ever again. But underneath that, and a little more pervasive, was a feeling of disappointment. He’d never see Roman again? Part of him was trying to say ‘that’s a good thing. Hang up now.’_

_But the other part of him, the other part that liked Roman, the other part that cared whether a cadet (regardless of their history) made it through with a fighting chance, took over. He couldn’t help thinking, what if this was Patton? What if this was Logan? Remy? Emile? Would he be okay with letting them fail? Of course he wouldn’t; he was a leader of a team. And if there was even the slightest possibility that Roman would end up on Virgil’s team, he couldn’t let him just fail._

_“Maybe you’re working too hard,” said Virgil, immediately regretting it._

_There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Working...too hard?” Roman asked, incredulous._

_Virgil opened and closed his mouth a few times as he fought with himself. He could still hang up, and it would still be fine. He wouldn’t feel guilty. But again, that other part of him prevailed. The other part of him that dreamed of seeing a movie with Roman. He grit his teeth as he said, “It happens.” He held back a frustrated hiss. “Sometimes you get so worried about something that you perform worse, you know? Sometimes you just have to sleep on it. Take a break.”_

_“Take a break,” Roman repeated, voice quiet and pondering. He seemed to be considering what Virgil was saying, though it still seemed like he didn’t 100 percent believe it. “Take a break how?”_

_Virgil shrugged, slamming his free palm against his desk. He could NOT believe he was entertaining this. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop. “I don’t know. Take a nap. See a movie. Go on a date. Go for a run. Take a day off from everything. Refresh.”_

_Roman hummed. “Interesting,” he said. “In...ter...es...ting.”_

_“Please talk slower.”_

_There was yet another pause. A pause so long that Virgil thought, for a blissful moment, that Roman had hung up. But alas, no dice._

_“I think I know just how to take a proper break.”_

_Virgil reached across his desk for his water bottle, taking a long swig from it, since his throat suddenly felt like a desert. “Oh yeah? How?” The water had long since gone warm. If only there was actual air conditioning in this place._

_“Mhmm!” said Roman. He sounded almost giddy. “Virgil, would you like to go on a date with me?”_

_It was at this moment that Virgil actually DID fall out of his chair. He was mid swig of water when Roman asked this question, and when he did ask, Virgil choked on his water. This led him to drop the receiver out of his one hand, and drop the water bottle out of the other. The bottle then proceeded to roll off his desk in a quickened fashion, and as Virgil made a lunge for it, his rolling chair seemed to take matters into its own hands by bolting to the right. Which made Virgil fall to the left, onto the floor, with the phone receiver hanging by its twirled cord, dangling next to his face._

_“Virgil?” Roman asked from the swinging receiver. “Are you okay?”_

_Virgil did not answer, as he had fallen face first against a tile floor, and was also still choking on his water. The bottle rolled away, satisfied with the end result. His chair sat three feet away from him, mocking him. He was pressed against the ground, taking deep breaths. To think he’d been shot, stabbed, strangled, and beaten up by criminals every day of the week, and a desk was the thing that almost took him out._

_Correction: the thought of saying yes to Roman’s question was the thing that almost took him out._

_He propped himself up on his elbows, and ran a hand along his aching jaw, which had taken the brunt of the fall. To test its structural integrity, he opened and closed his mouth a few times in an exaggerated fashion. Thankfully, he was only bruised, not broken. He sat up fully, cross legged on the floor. The receiver still dangled in front of him._

_“Are you all right?” asked Roman._

_Virgil nodded, and ran a hand through his hair more than once. “I’m fine,” he said into the swinging phone. He then realized that sitting on this floor and talking to a phone he wasn’t even holding looked insane. So he pushed himself up to a standing position, using his desk as leverage. When he was upright, he grabbed the phone and held it to his ear._

_“I heard a crash,” Roman said._

_“I fell.”_

_“Why did you fall?” Was that a twinge of amusement Virgil heard in Roman’s voice?_

_“Um. Un- Unimportant.” Virgil stepped over and brought his chair close to him again, and he sat. The water bottle, he let lay. Behind him he glanced at Carmani, who was, miraculously, still asleep. “Uh…”_

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“No!” Virgil exclaimed. “No, don’t, uh, that’s- that’s fine, I just. Um. Gi- give me a second to...think.”_

_Roman said of course, and went silent on the other end. Virgil sat in his chair, staring out into space, weighing his options. His thoughts bounced in his mind so quickly that he couldn’t latch onto one before another took its place._

_For one, Virgil was adamant about his stance on Roman. How in the world could he forget what Roman had done to this city, and to Virgil? His boyfriend almost killed him, for god’s sake. He’d stolen money from countless banks, countless people, and he basically got away with it because he testified against Adrien. That was something only a criminal could do._

_But, for another, he did try to do the right thing. He didn’t...HAVE to give Adrien up, especially considering how dangerous he was. Roman could have just gone to prison and kept his mouth shut, saved his ass. But he didn’t. He spoke up, he geared himself, and he went in even when it was his life against the line. That...that was something a cop would do. That was something Virgil would do. Something anyone on his team would do._

_Even despite all that, despite everything, there was just this charm to him that Virgil couldn’t seem to avoid; no matter his best efforts. Something magnetic about the way he carried himself. The way he smiled. It drew Virgil in, even when he was convinced that hating Roman would be the easiest thing in the world. But really, it became one of the hardest things to do. It was just so easy to like him. Patton liked him. Logan liked him. Remy liked him. Hell, even Carmani had taken a liking to him._

_It wasn’t like Virgil would have a reason to feel guilty if he ended up going on a date with Roman. Everyone seemed to be fine with him. He wasn’t really a bad guy. Just hung with the wrong people, Virgil supposed._

_Virgil swallowed, and Roman continued to patiently wait. He didn’t know how long exactly it had been, so he stuttered something out. “O-okay, um.” Great start, Knightly._

_“You don’t have to, you know,” said Roman. “I- I know you have your reservations about me, but, I just thought--”_

_“No, no,” Virgil said, shaking his head, “It’s- fine. I just, uh, I obviously didn’t expect--”_

_“I know,” Roman replied, half chuckling. “I don’t want to pressure you.”_

_Virgil’s chest swelled at that little chuckle. And for some reason, that was what did it._

_Suddenly, he wasn’t gritting his teeth against it anymore. He wasn’t trying to keep those daydreams inside a locked steel safe anymore. He felt like those images of him and Roman at dinner, or a movie, or wherever….he felt like they could finally be more than daydreams. More than just...images._

_There was still a small part of him that felt like it was wrong, though now he could see that part for what it was: a grudge. He held a grudge against Roman for his past transgressions. But if he knew ANYTHING about anyone, including himself, he knew that you couldn’t hold someone’s past against them forever._

_So, Virgil swallowed hard. The lump in his throat went away. And he smiled. “I’d...I’d like to.”_

_“Go on a date?” asked Roman, voice a tinge higher._

_Virgil nodded. “Yes.”_


	11. Everything is Okay

The soft hand Logan had on Virgil’s shoulder did little to quench the anxious fire in his stomach as he stood in the doorway of Roman’s hospital room. 

It was a handful of days later. Virgil had insisted he stay at the hospital in Roman’s room until he woke up; but Logan, Patton, Remy, and even Carmani demanded he go home until they got word from the nurse. Still, he came up everyday to visit until Logan came to drag him home at night.

“It simply isn’t good for your back to sleep in a chair,” he would say every time he brought Virgil to his car. 

So, he listened, because deep down he knew the others were worried about him as well. But in the morning, as soon as he opened his eyes, he was in his car and on the way up. One of the nurses started to bring him coffee too, which he appreciated. And every day, he would pull the chair close to Roman’s bed, reach for his hand, and hold it for hours. And he would talk. He would talk about work, he would talk about what was on TV, he would talk about anything he thought about. Because for some reason, he felt like Roman could hear him. Even if he was in some medically induced coma, he could still hear Virgil. And since the others couldn’t visit as often because of work, it was mostly just him and Roman. Which made him feel a little less self conscious for talking to someone who was asleep. But even if they were in the room, he talked.

Mostly, he talked about the wedding. One day, that was all he could think about, so that was all he could talk about. He talked about how he wished it was a Halloween wedding, so Roman’s dress could be black lace, because he looked really good in black lace. And Virgil’s suit could be black with orange trim, and the altar could be covered in spider webs, and they could serve jello eyeballs at the reception. He laughed, and said that their wedding song could be the reprise of Sally’s song from Nightmare Before Christmas. 

“But,” he said that day, “I know that our families wouldn’t really like that, so a May wedding is fine too.”

When he woke up this morning, he expected it to be another day of that. Another day of talking to Roman when he knew that Roman couldn’t answer. But when he checked his phone, he saw that he had a text from Logan. 

**Roman is awake. I just heard from the nurse. I am coming to pick you up.**

Picking Virgil up was a great idea by Logan’s part, because by the time his slick blue Escape pulled into the driveway, Virgil was a nervous wreck. He was shaking all over. From excitement, from worry, from anticipation, he couldn’t tell. Maybe all three. Maybe more. All he knew was that he needed Logan to help him to buckle his seat belt before going off. 

Logan tried to spark up a bit of conversation, but his efforts were quickly doused when he noticed how anxious Virgil looked. Biting his nails, looking out the window, breathing short and shallow. It stayed this way until they reached the hospital.

Now, they were standing in front of his door, which was closed. Virgil had his hands stuck deep in his pockets so Logan couldn't see how they were balled into fists. 

“I can..go in with you,” said Logan. The plan, long agreed upon by everyone else, was to give Virgil and Roman the first few minutes alone before the others came inside.

Virgil shook his head. “No, I...I’m good. I just…” _am terrified of seeing what I saw in the shed all over again._ “...I'm just nervous.”

There was a slight pause between them before Logan put a hand on his shoulder, giving a faint smile. “It'll be all right,” he said, because he didn't know what else to say. “I'm going to go get the others.” Virgil gave a faint nod, and Logan walked off.

Virgil knew it was ridiculous. To imagine Roman looking as he did that night. He'd been visiting Roman every day. He knew how Roman looked lying in that bed, head tilted to the side on the pillow, sleeping. He knew there were no bruises, no cuts, no blood. It was just Roman and his greasy hair. 

And now, he was awake. That was the only difference. As he took in a deep breath, and let it out slow, that was what he kept saying to himself. That was the only difference. 

He stepped forward and eased Roman’s door open. 

When he neared the bed, his heart sank. Because Roman’s eyes were still closed, and his head was still tilted to the side on the pillow, the way it had been all these days. Despite knowing it wasn’t true, part of him couldn’t help thinking that Logan had played some kind of cruel joke on him. Though he immediately dismissed the thought, it still crossed his mind. 

But then, as he went to go sit in the chair, as he always did, Roman stirred. Virgil gasped slightly, and Roman opened his eyes. 

At first, they looked confused. Of course, they would be, wouldn’t they? He had been asleep for days, and the last time he’d seen Virgil was when he was bleeding to death in the back of a shed. So, yeah, of course he’d be confused.

But after a few moments, he looked around, and things seemed to click. He was in a hospital, Virgil was standing near him, and (arguably the most important thing) he was no longer bleeding to death in the back of a shed. So when his eyes finally landed on Virgil again, he smiled. His lips were chapped, he looked tired, and movement still seemed to cause him pain, but Virgil didn’t care; all he saw was beauty.

“Virgil,” he said. His voice was hoarse, quiet, almost a whisper. But it was there. 

Virgil didn’t move for a few moments. He was frozen in place. But at the sound of his name, he almost lunged forward and threw his arms around Roman. Though, he thought better of it, and reached for his hand instead. Roman grabbed it back, though weakly. That was all right though. Virgil had enough grip for the both of them.

There were ten thousand things running through Virgil’s mind at the moment. He had a million questions for Roman, a million things to say. But he couldn’t bring himself to speak. All the things he had talked about while Roman was asleep had now evaded him. Now that he finally got to stare back into those same, amazing brown eyes he would have the pleasure of marrying, he came up short. 

But before he could say anything, Roman chose to break the silence instead. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Virgil’s brows furrowed together. “What? No, don’t apologize- what do you have to be sorry for?”

“I…” Roman swallowed. “I was stupid. I shouldn’t have...told him to shoot me, I...I should have called Carmani. Geared up. I, should have--”

Virgil leaned forward, and put a hand on Roman’s cheek. “No, no, no. You have nothing to be sorry for. I don’t care about any of that.” 

“But I-”

“Shut--” Virgil put his forehead against Roman’s as he leaned over the bed railing-- “Shut up. Don’t talk.”

Roman chuckled weakly. “I haven’t been able to talk for days.” 

Virgil smiled, regardless of the impulse to roll his eyes. “Fine,” he said, standing back up. He still held Roman’s hand though. “Then talk. I’d love to hear you talk.” I miss your voice, he thought, sitting down.

“Well.” Roman tried to adjust himself in his bed, but as he tried to prop himself up, he winced, and cursed under his breath. His arm flew over his stomach, pressing down. 

“Are you okay?” Virgil stood over Roman again, hands hovering over him, unsure of how to help. 

Roman nodded. “Y-yeah. I…” He closed his eyes tight and sat still for a second. When he opened them, he looked at Virgil. “Could you…?”

“Of course!” Virgil rushed forward and slid an arm around Roman’s back. The other arm he offered to Roman, which he took as leverage to prop himself up. Once he was sitting up, Virgil adjusted the pillow behind his back to try and make him more comfortable. He shimmied into it, creating a groove. Roman gave a grateful sigh, taking the arm off his stomach. 

“Thanks.”

There was a small pause between them as Virgil sat back down, and he took the opportunity to get a good look at Roman, just to remind himself that this was real. That he was okay.

His hair was messy, greasy, unwashed. That was to be expected. He’d been asleep for days. His eyes were still groggy from sleep, but the deep brown of them never ceased to be awe inspiring. His freckles were still there. They were still cute (though, Virgil would never say that out loud). His mouth was tugged up in a slight smile, which was comforting. Virgil was afraid to see what was under his thin hospital blanket, but at least everything was working properly. At least he was okay.

Once Virgil realized he’d been staring for too long, it was too late. Roman had noticed. “Am I that ugly?” he asked, voice tinged with amusement.

Before he could stop himself, Virgil said, “I’m so happy that I’m marrying you.” 

Roman smiled with teeth, and Virgil smiled back. “Well, good to know,” replied Roman. “Um, where- where is everyone else?”

Virgil jerked a thumb towards the closed hospital door. “Logan’s letting everyone know you’re awake.”

“Ah.”

“Carmani probably won’t be able to be here for a while, though. He’s drawing up some paperwork for you. Medical leave.”

“Medical leave?”

“Yeah Roman, medical leave. You got shot in the stomach, I’m pretty sure that warrants some time off.”

Roman shook his head. “But, what about the wedding?”

“The wedding’s in May, we have some time.”

“I…” Roman paused. He looked out the window, and watched the clouds pass over the sky. It was sunny. “What about you?”

 _I’m gonna go back to work,_ he almost said. But sitting here, looking at Roman, watching the way his face looked as if he couldn’t wait to get outside and feel the fresh air again--it made him think twice. Suddenly, the only thing he wanted to do was go home and make dinner for the both of them. He swallowed hard, and said, “I’m gonna take some time off too, I think. To be with you.”

Roman looked back up at him, and a smile passed over his face, laced with, was that relief? “Good,” he said. “Good.”

They talked about this and that for a couple minutes, and it finally set in that this whole thing was over. That he and Roman would go home, they would be fine, they would get married, and everything would be okay. 

Everything would be okay.

Eventually though, Virgil knew that everyone else wanted to have their moment with Roman too, so he stood up, and said, “I think I’m going to go get the others. Is that all right? If you aren’t ready to see anyone, I’ll let them know.”

“No,” Roman said, shaking his head, “I want to see them. Patton’s probably having a fit,” he added, smiling.

“Probably.”

Virgil gave him one more loving smile before turning towards the door. Though, once his hand was on the knob, Roman’s voice stopped him.

“Carnations.”

Virgil turned around. “Huh?”

Roman was looking at him, fond smile on his face. His arms were folded over his stomach. “Carnations. Those are the kind of flowers we’re having at the wedding.” A pause. “I remember you asking. Before.”

Virgil felt something in his chest swell, and he nodded, turning and going out of the room. Once the door shut behind him, he took a deep breath in, and let it out slow. It was the first real breath he had taken all week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this might not have been as dramatic as some of you might have wanted, but i wanted to keep it realistic. Roman is still healing!!! Just wait a couple more chapters. youll get vindication :)

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment pls!


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